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Ralth  •  Kent-  buckladd 


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Wl®1R1RW' 


BY 
RALPH  KENT  BUCKLAND 


<< 


Author  of      In  the  Land  of  the  Fili- 
pino," and      Philippine  Journeys  " 


BOSTON 

SHERMAN,  FRENCH  &  COMPANY 

1914 


i 


Copyright,  1914 
Shebman,  French  &•  Company 


TO 
DOROTHY  ELIZABETH  PERRIN 

WHO,  THROUGH  THE  GLOOM  OF  A  NORTHERN  WINTER 

AND  THE  DREARINESS  OF  A  RAIN-DRENCHED  SPRING, 

TRACED  WITH  FREQUENT  LETTERS 

THE  FLOWER -BEDECKED  LAND,  CALIFORNIA, 

WITH  ITS  MOUNTAINS  AND  ITS  SEA, 

THIS   BOOK   OF   "WORRY" 

IS  MODESTLY  INSCRIBED. 


320290 


IN  WAY  OF  PREFACE 

"  Worry/'  once  upon  a  time, 

So  quaint  legends  run, 
Killed  a  great  big  Thomas  cat  — 
Killed  him  dead !     Clean  through  at  that ! 
So  he  was  not  worth  a  rat! 

Shot  as  with  a  gun! 

Putrid  in  the  sun! 

'Tis  a  story  sad  to  tell, 

How  the  germ  got  in. 
First  a  back  yard  fenc-ing  party; 
Then  a  rival,  fat  and  hearty. 
Envy,  unrest  —  meanness  —  partly, 

Soaked  him  full  of  sin, 

Letting  "  worry  "  in. 

"  Worry  "  since  that  far-off  time 

Many  scores  has  claimed; 
Bored  each  like  a  gimlet  small; 
Cracked  and  seamed  each  cranium  wall; 
Forced  upon  each  death's  dread  call. 

All  for  what  they  aimed 

"  Worry  "  all  retained. 

"  Worry  "  then  with  hand  of  iron 

Must  be  held  in  tight, 
Lest  Life's  sorrows  troubles  brew; 
Lest  Life's  burdens  dungeons  hew; 
Lest  Life's  pathway  ruins  strew; 

And  the  struggler's  might 

End  in  darkest  night. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  Introducing  a  Querulous  Matron         1 

II  When  a  Girl  Graduates        .      .      .IS 

III  Bleakdale  Economics        ....     26 

IV  Down  the   Car  Line        ....     39 

V  Dressmaking:  Preparations   .      .      .51 

VI  Dressmaking:  Actualities      ...     59 

VII  A  Walk  and  a  Talk        ....     72 

VIII  Making  a  Party  Suit  the  Season  .     77 


TPSl@'ft1Rl2" 


CHAPTER  I 
INTRODUCING  A  QUERULOUS  MATRON 

Mrs.  Simkins  lolled  back  in  her  rocking-chair 
before  the  stove,  rubbing  her  eyes  wearily  as, 
with  her  feet  on  an  old-fashioned  hassock,  she 
strained  with  all  the  weight  of  her  ponderous, 
unwieldy  bulk  the  sustaining  power  of  the  rear 
curves  of  the  rockers. 

Rockers,  well  she  knew,  were  designed  primar- 
ily, to  ease  the  troubled  mind,  to  soothe  with 
assuaging  rhythm  the  torn  and  wretched  nerves 
of  the  tired  housewife,  or  to  help  the  man  of 
the  house  through  an  evening  of  restful  motion 
after  a  more  than  usually  strenuous  battle  with 
world  cares.  Rockers,  she  realized  full  well, 
were  intended  solely  to  offer  to  a  more  or  less 
miserable  state  a  mild  and,  if  properly  manip- 
ulated, an  inexpensive  nerve  tonic  in  form  of  a 
diverting  sameness  of  movement  such  as  that 
with  which  the  fond  mother  allays  the  restless- 
ness of  her  babe  —  back  and  forth,  back  and 
forth.  They  never  were  fashioned  to  serve  as 
points  upon  which  one  might  balance  with  de- 
licious though  precarious  indecision  while  sub- 
mitting to  the  process  of  cerebral  digestion  a 


-.•:>\:>:V  *;; J  ^  WORRY" 

thought  or  a  plan  causing  in  itself  not  a  little 
infelicity  of  mind  in  the  slow  process  of  its  being 
paraded  before  an  already  tantalized  and  much 
harassed  intellect. 

Mrs.  Simkins  knew  all  this,  yet  she  sat  poised 
regardless,  cogitating,  very  much  absorbed, 
deep  in  the  mental  gymnastics  which  have  taken 
unto  themselves  among  Americans  as  a  class  the 
name  "  worry."  With  the  backward  swing  of 
the  chair  she  paused,  perilously  poised,  her 
weight  on  the  tips  of  the  rockers,  her  balance 
maintained  by  the  hassock  upon  which  her  gen- 
erous sized  feet  rested.  She  stopped  a  moment 
in  her  even  back  and  forth,  hesitating  as  though 
the  better  to  assimilate  a  hazy  or  but  half- 
grasped  portion  of  what  was  on  her  mind. 

Sufficient  evidence  there  lay  down  in  the  front 
cellar  under  the  parlor  (for  though  the  house 
was  small,  its  cellar  was  walled  off  into  rooms) 
of  the  risks  to  be  chanced  in  attempting  thus  to 
interrupt  the  steady  swing  of  a  chair,  in  trying 
thus  to  pervert  the  long  well-understood  func- 
tions of  the  rocker;  there  in  that  front  cellar, 
a  crippled  article  of  ease,  lay  John's  favorite 
chair,  a  relic  of  their  first  days  of  housekeeping, 
one  of  the  long  curved  rockers  broken  squarely 
off  close  to  the  frame.  There  doubtless  it  would 
lie  for  some  time  to  come  ere  it  could  be  restored 
to  its  erstwhile  usefulness  and  beauty.  Certain 
monetary  annoyances  obsessed  the  family,  the 


"  WORRY "  3 

repairing  of  broken  pieces  of  furniture  could 
not  be  planned  for  even  for  a  moment. 

Reasons  there  were  for  even  stricter  economy 
than  ordinarily:  a  distressing  accident  had  ac- 
companied the  collapse  of  the  chair.  Its  con- 
sequent state  of  lameness  (for  it  had  lost,  if  not 
a  leg,  at  least  a  rocker)  had  in  the  bringing 
about  thereof  been  the  cause  of  consequences 
that  had  been  a  source  of  deep-seated  and  per- 
sistent "  worry  "  to  Mrs.  Simkins,  gifted  as  she 
was  in  that  line,  for  John,  to  whom  Mrs.  Sim- 
kins  was  indebted  for  the  surname  she,  with 
such  conscious  pride,  bore  aloft  far  above  the 
perplexities  of  a  sordid  world,  had,  in  his  fall 
from  the  height  to  which  he  had  attained  at  the 
tip  end  of  the  rockers,  been  precipitated  in  the 
general  collapse  backward  as  well  as  downward, 
and  in  such  a  doubled-up  manner  that  his  right 
arm  had  been  fractured  between  the  elbow  and 
the  wrist :  "  the  radius,"  said  the  doctor. 

John  had  not  only  been  considerably  shaken 
up  and  broken  up  in  this  sudden  and  quite  un- 
anticipated descent  from  balanced  dreaminess; 
his  mental  equilibrium  as  well  had  been  wrenched 
quite  a  twist  out  of  plumb.  He  was  and  had 
been  since  the  "  catastrophe,"  as  he  persisted 
in  dignifying  his  hasty  and  unlocked  for  drop 
to  carpet  levels,  very  much  troubled  in  mind  as 
well  as  in  body.     In  a  word,  he  too  was.  worried. 

Other  accidents  and  unlucky  incidents  had, 


4  "  WORRY  " 

from  time  to  time  during  the  married  life  of 
the  Simkins,  been  brought  to  them  (or  thrust 
upon  them  rather)  for  them  to  bear.  Anxie- 
ties, however,  had  not  been  with  this  pair  some- 
thing coming  to  them  solely  and  inseparably 
through  the  marital  state.  Each  could  still  re- 
member certain  unpleasantries,  worry  breeders, 
appertaining  to  that  now  distant  period  well 
along  in  the  half-forgotten  past,  some  twenty- 
five  years  ago,  when  each  was  breasting  as  best 
each  could  the  trials  and  wrinkle-developing 
episodes  forming,  of  the  torture  of  existence  in 
this  human  shape,  a  very  large  share  —  at  any 
rate,  so  thought  the  Simkins. 

Despite  Mrs.  Simkins'  proclivities  for  bor- 
rowing trouble,  for  urging  herself  across  all 
sorts  and  lengths  of  bridges  before  any  of  them 
came  well  within  the  scope  of  her  eager,  always- 
reaching-out  imagination,  she  had  always  main- 
tained a  very  generous  avoirdupois  from  the 
day  she  and  John  decided  to  worry  along  to- 
gether till  the  very  day  and  hour  she  taxed  in 
a  moment  of  abstraction  the  ability  of  mere 
wood  to  sustain  her.  She  had,  in  fact  and  in 
consistency,  always  felt  more  or  less  concerned 
about  her  weight  for  fear  it  might  be  significant 
of  a  tendency  toward  a  dropsical  disorder.  But 
as  yet  nothing  save  fat  had  developed,  and  she 
was  what  one  might  with  unblinking  veracity 
call  well. 


"  WORRY  *  5 

Her  unevenness  of  mind,  it  is  true,  her  search- 
ing after  petty  anxieties,  in  the  long-drawn-out 
introspection  and  self-analysis  to  which  she 
daily  brought  her  brain  in  torture,  had  made 
her  face  so  thin  and  wan  that  it  scarcely  seemed 
to  belong  at  all  to  her  corpulent  body ;  her  face 
revealed  her  daily  perturbation. 

And  John !  Mr.  Simkins  !  He  worried  too ; 
but  mayhap  —  early  leanings  in  that  direction 
to  the  contrary  —  it  was  largely  a  matter  of 
falling  in  with  his  spouse. 

Just  at  this  time  there  was,  perhaps,  legiti- 
mate cause  in  the  Simkins  family  to  give  free 
rein  to  the  insignificant  little  imp  that  "  ravels 
the  sleeve  " ;  for  with  John's  broken  arm  and 
the  double  trial  of  doctor's  bills  to  pay  coupled 
with  the  inability  to  go  to  do  any  work  at  the 
factory,  besides  the  tiresome  details  of  the  day- 
by-day  struggle  always  and  forever  with  Mrs. 
Simkins,  a  load  more  weighty  than  her  burden 
of  flesh  seemed  weighing  her  down. 

She  rubbed  her  eyes  again  as  though  to  mas- 
sage and  to  make  less  noticeable  the  tell-tale 
crow's  feet  lined  at  the  corners,  then : 

"  John,"  she  called,  jeopardizing  her  almost 
teetering  position  the  more  by  craning  her  neck 
around  the  edge  of  the  tilted  chair-back  so  as 
to  bring  within  view  her  patient  and  incapaci- 
tated husband  seated  as  comfortably  as  possible, 
his  disabled  arm  resting  easily  pillowed  on  an- 


6  U  WORRY  » 

other  chair.  "  John ! "  she  reiterated  argu- 
mentatively,  "  I'm  worried."  Saying  which, 
Mrs.  Simkins  dropped  from  her  pivot  perch  and 
began  once  more  her  slow,  easy  swing. 

"  Yes  ?  "  vouchsafed  he  to  whom  she  spoke, 
with  just  a  shade  of  weariness  in  the  interroga- 
tion, just  enough  to  hint  at  a  lack  of  sympathy 
with  her  state  of  mind,  an  inclination  the  in- 
dulgence of  which  Mrs.  Simkins  never  allowed 
John  for  a  moment  to  give  way  to  without  an 
altercation.  She  enjoyed,  reveled  even,  in 
having  concerted  action  in  all  pertaining  to 
family  cares ;  she  brooked  no  half-hearted 
acquiescence  in  bearing  the  burdens  of  life. 

"  Yes  ? "  she  caught  up  his  question. 
"  Yes ! "  she  threw  back  at  him  emphatically, 
"  and  I  should  think  you  would  be  worried,  too. 
Here  it's  been  two  whole  weeks  since  we've  had 
nothing  coming  in  and  doctor's  bills  to  pay, 
and,  and,"  she  hung  on  her  word  and  stopped 
atip  once  more  the  motion  of  her  chair. 

"  Whole  weeks?"  facetiously  muttered  John, 
for  though  he  worried,  he  could  sometimes  see 
a  faint  glimmer  of  the  leaven  of  life  away  off  in 
the  gloom. 

"  And,"  went  on  Mrs.  Simkins,  "  you  know 
May  fifth's  Em's  birthday,  her  eighteenth,  and 
she  just  wants  to  give  a  party  —  a  class  party 
she  calls  it,  though  why  when  it's  her  birthday ! 
Well,  it's  only  two  weeks  off,  anyway.     If  the 


"  WORRY  "  7 

weather  would  just  warm  up,  so  as  we  could  do 
away  with  this  fire,  and  if  you  hadn't  broken 
that  chair,  and — " 

Again  Mrs.  Simkins  paused.  When  she  wor- 
ried the  results  of  her  cogitation  were  apt  to  be 
brought  forth  in  sections. 

"  It's  her  eighteenth  birthday,"  Mr.  Simkins 
took  up  the  thread  of  controversy ;  "  but  that 
only  means  that  she's  almost  out  of  school — " 

"  Almost  out  of  school ! "  interrupted  Mrs. 
Simkins.  "  Almost  out  of  school !  And  do  you 
know,  Mr.  Simkins,  may  I  ask,  what  almost  out 
of  school  means?"  Mrs.  S.  rocked  with  nerv- 
ous energy.  "  May  I  ask  ?  "  she  iterated  with 
some  show  of  sarcasm. 

"  You  may,"  mildly  agreed  Mr.  S.,  a  twinge 
of  pain  in  his  arm  and  that  terrible  itchy  feel- 
ing always  accompanying  the  healing  of  a 
fractured  bone  distracting  for  a  moment  his 
thoughts  from  the  import  of  the  question. 

"Oh!  I  may!  Well,  I  was  just  a-going  to 
say  that  her  getting  out  of  school  means  that 
there'll  be  her  graduation  dress  and  a  whole  pile 
of  other  truck  to  get  ready  for  her.  Besides, 
she's  just  set,  clean  set,  on  havin'  a  class  party. 
Of  course,  we'll  have  it  for  a  birthday  party 
too  and  maybe  we'll  shove  it  a  little  further  on 
into  May,  but  do  you  know  what  all  that 
means?  " 

"  If  you  would  hear  me  out ! " 


8  "  WORRY  " 

Mr.  Simkins  picked  up  his  splintered  arm 
tenderly,  the  pillow  on  which  it  rested  too,  and 
began  pacing  to  and  fro,  as  is  the  manner  of 
men  who  find  expense  piling  inconsiderately  on 
lack  of  income. 

"  I  was  about  to  say  when  you  interrupted 
me,"  Mr.  Simkins  continued  with  dignity,  "  I 
was  about  to  say  that  when  Emma  was  finally 
out  of  school  for  good  and  all  she  could  get  a 
place  somewheres  and  could  help  us  out  here  at 
home  a  little,  and  (as  though  by  second  thought) 
she  can  help  Myra  a  little  with  her  clothes  until 
she  gets  through  her  schooling,  and  then,  why 
then,  of  course,  she'll  prob'ly  find  some  likely 
fellow  and  up  and  marry  him." 

"  Up  and  marry  him,"  sniffed  Mrs.  Simkins. 
"  Yes,  she'll  up  and  marry  him  all  right ;  but  I 
guess  from  the  way  that  Joe  Kuntz  hangs 
around  her,  she'll  up  and  marry  before  she  ups 
much  to  help  us  out  any  here  at  home.  And 
Joe  workin'  reg'lar  and  a-gettin'  his  two  a 
day." 

The  rocking-chair  kept  up  a  steady  oscilla- 
tion for  some  little  time,  then  Mrs.  Simkins 
commenced  again  —  this  time  a  little  remi- 
niscently : 

"  And  as  for  helping  My !  You  know  the 
way  it's  always  been,  and  is  always  likely  to  be. 
Em's  the  one  likely  to  be  helped,  and  My's  the 
one  likely  to  do  the  helping,  besides  the  little 


"  WORRY  »  9 

we  can  do.  Why,  now  she  braids  her  hair  tight 
and  ties  it  up  with  strings  so  that  Em  can  flash 
that  hair  ribbon  we  bought  for  My's  Christmas 
up  and  down  that  high  school  room.  I  hain't 
said  nothin',  but  I've  noticed  lots.  Do  you 
know  My  hain't  (Mrs.  Simkins'  grammatical 
errors  were  the  result  of  carelessness  rather 
than  of  ignorance  —  even  thus  it  was  with  her 
dropped  '  g's,' —  for  as  she  always  kept  before 
her  family,  she  had  been  'to  school')  a  single 
nice  handkerchief  to  her  name?  Em,  she  just 
rakes  in  all  she  can  get." 

To  this  recital  of  his  elder  daughter's  pe- 
culiarities of  disposition  Mr.  Simkins  uttered 
not  a  word  in  reply.  Never  before  had  such  an 
analytical  presentation  as  to  the  relative  merits 
of  his  two  daughters  from  the  standpoint  of 
selfishness  been  the  topic  of  conversation  between 
the  two. 

Mrs.  Simkins  had  talked  long-windedly  be- 
fore —  indeed  she  had,  and  on  more  than  one 
occasion  —  but  never  had  "  the  girls  "  come  up 
as  far  back  as  he  could  recollect  for  such  a 
thorough  going-over.  The  social  obligations  of 
Miss  Simkins  were  evidently  bearing  down  upon 
his  wife,  and  the  lack  of  funds  —  well,  that  was 
getting  on  his  mind  also.  Since  his  fall  there 
had  been  much  to  think  of. 

If  they  but  owned  their  home  they  could  — 
but  they  didn't.     They  were  renting,  and   so 


10  "  WORRY  * 

there  was  no  use  thinking  anything  about  rais- 
ing a  little  money  that  way. 

And  John,  having  walked  off  a  little  of  his 
nervousness,  reseated  himself  in  his  chair  and 
rearranged  his  several  cushions  and  pillows. 

"  My  dear,"  he  observed,  glancing  back  to 
the  stove  where  his  wife  still  sat  rocking,  "  my 
dear,  if  you  are  thinking  of  going  down  town 
this  afternoon,  you  might  as  well  get  me  six  or 
so  cigars.  That  box  Jacobs  gave  me  is  all 
gone.  You  know  I  didn't  have  a  smoke  yester- 
day ;  and  I  guess  this  worry  — " 

But  he  was  not  allowed  to  finish. 

"  Yes,  this  worry ! "  almost  screamed  Mrs. 
Simkins,  as  she  skated  her  chair  away  from  her, 
and  stood  in  her  righteous  wrath.  "  This 
worry ! "  scornfully.  "  There's  never  been  a 
man  yet,  at  least  that  I've  known  anything 
about,  that  didn't  think  trouble,  just  a  mite 
of  extra  care,  was  brought  around  to  his  door 
special  just  to  give  him  leave  to  go  and  bolster 
up  his  pet  habits." 

Mrs.  S.  made  her  way  toward  her  husband. 

M  I  am  going  down  town  this  afternoon,"  she 
added  impressively,  standing  before  him,  "  I  am 
going  down  town ;  but  I'll  confine  my  purchases 
to  necessary  things,  Mr.  Simkins.  I  shall  buy 
sugar,  beans  and  a  piece  of  meat." 

"  But  you  know,  my  dear,  I  didn't  mind  so 
long  as  the  swelling  was  so  bad  and  my  arm 


"  WORRY  »  11 

hurt  me  so.  It  seemed  then  as  though  I 
couldn't  think  of  nothing  but  the  ache.  But 
now  it's  better,  some  you  know,  I  just  seem  to 
feel  so  fidgety  and  unsettled  all  the  while.  I 
want  my  smoke." 

"  Well,  you  can  fidget  and  unsettle  about  that 
party  Em's  got  to  give,  if  you  must  have  some- 
thing to  feel  flighty  about.  Planning  how  we're 
going  to  manage  it  will  likely  ease  your  consti- 
tution a  bit.  If  you  want  to  risk  gettin'  that 
arm  bumped  out  of  place  on  the  car  you  can 
go  down  to  the  city  and  buy  your  own  tobacco. 
But  I  wouldn't  if  I  was  you.  As  for  me,  Mr. 
Simkins,  I  draw  the  line  at  caterin'  to  notions." 

Mrs.  Simkins  whirled,  and  sailed  with  a 
women's-temperance  mien  out  into  the  dining- 
room  and  thence  to  the  kitchen  where,  in  this 
most  important  of  all  rooms  of  her  home,  she 
began  that  series  of  mysterious  shakings,  mix- 
ings, stirrings  and  tastings  which  with  the  noon 
hour  was  to  go  to  the  table  a  deliciously  whole- 
some though  inexpensive  meal;  for  Mrs.  Sim- 
kins, after  the  manner  of  many  of  her  sex, 
counteracted  the  heat  of  her  temper  and  abated 
the  worry  frittering  away  her  composure  by 
expending  all  her  skill  in  the  preparation  of  a 
meal  befitting  the  appetites  of  two  hungry 
schoolgirls,  to  say  nothing  of  a  (doubtless  by 
this  time)  penitently  tractable  better-half. 

Promptly  on  time  with  the  coming  of  the  car 


18  "WORRY" 

up  the  street  from  the  city  came  the  two  Simkins 
daughters.  They  found  not  only  a  meal  await- 
ing them,  but  a  mother,  capable  and  persistent, 
with  a  look  of  strong  purpose  lighting  her  eyes. 
They  wondered  in  an  undertone  to  one  another : 
"  What  is  Mother  worrying  about  now?  " 
As  Mrs.  Simkins  glanced  at  her  daughter  Em, 
the  thought  flashed  through  her  brain,  "  She's 
just  like  her  father,  a  mite  selfish." 


CHAPTER  II 
WHEN  A  GIRL  GRADUATES 

Spring  came  to  Bleakdale  rather  tardily  that 
year.  January  and  February  had'  stuck  and 
clung  to  the  very  letter  of  that  old  saying  which 
makes  the  lengthening  of  days  bear  along  with 
their  added  hours  of  sunlight  a  corresponding 
length  of  vacuum  above  the  mercury  in  ther- 
mometers. March  had  come  in  snowy,  windy, 
and  then  intensely  cold,  the  freezing  weather 
forming  a  heavy  crust  all  over  the  white  cover- 
ing so  thick  and  strong  that  the  proverbial  lion 
might  have  prowled  around  for  days  over  the 
dazzling  white  parquetry  of  closely  set  crystals 
without  breaking  through,  and  without  any- 
where in  his  roving  coming  in  contact  with  his 
compatriot  in  simile.  March  continued  a  lion 
down  to  the  very  last  hour,  and  even  the  first 
few  days  of  April  felt  the  lashing  of  his  angry 
tail  as  the  raw  winds  swept  the  city  and  the 
country  round  about. 

Bleakdale  did  not  belie  its  name  those  days. 

The  latter  part  of  April,  although  generally 

sunny  and  springlike  in  the  feel  of  the  air,  was 

nevertheless  too  chilly  and  damp,  especially  in- 
13 


14  "  WORRY  " 

doors,  for  one  to  think  of  being  able  to  get  along 
without  a  fire,  even  for  the  sake  of  relieving  just 
a  trifle  the  strain  on  the  family  income.  And 
so  the  long,  dreary,  cold  days  brought  with  them 
considerable  expense  to  the  denizens  of  this 
north  temperate  region ;  and  to  that  large  ma- 
jority, those  having  but  slender,  altogether  in- 
sufficient purses,  with  the  expense  came  the 
necessity  for  careful  management  of  the  family 
funds,  for  painstaking  watchfulness  along  all 
lines  of  expenditure. 

Wood  had  been  so  scarce  early  in  the  fall  and 
after  the  cold  spell  set  in  as  to  be  practically 
unprocurable  at  any  price ;  and  coal,  though  to 
be  had  when  one  paid  cash  —  that  is,  certain 
unprivileged  "  ones  " —  came  at  what  has  been 
incongruously  called  a  "  pretty  "  figure.  It  did 
not  seem  at  all  a  "  pretty "  figure  to  those 
dwellers  in  cold,  desolate  Bleakdale. 

Provisions  rose  sympathetically  in  price. 
Those  who  had  been  able  in  the  early  fall  to  lay 
in  bushels  of  potatoes,  some  onions  and  a  few 
squashes,  and  had  had  the  foresight  and  the 
industry  to  "  put  up  "  tomatoes  and  a  few  cans 
of  fruit  managed  on  a  fairly  economical  scale. 
Others,  less  wary  of  the  turns  of  fate,  of  the 
weather,  and  of  fluctuating  market  values,  found 
themselves  almost  mired  monetarily,  and  only 
able  to  struggle  along  toward  a  reluctant 
spring,    with   its   promises    of   warmth    and   a 


"  WORRY  *  15 

cheaper  livelihood,  by  painful  exactions  on 
bodily  strength  and  on  patience. 

The  inhabitants  of  Rleakdale  were  not  greatly 
concerned  at  any  time  with  the  dictates  of  Dame 
Fashion.  Tight  fitting  costumes  for  women, 
with  their  specious  hint  at  economy  because 
under-garments  were  through  the  scantiness  of 
the  dresses  made  well-nigh  superfluous,  had 
passed  Bleakdale  by,  as  had  the  balloon  sleeves 
and  skirts  of  an  interminable  number  of  yards 
around  some  years  previously.  Those  of  Bleak- 
dale —  that  is,  the  feminine  portion  —  main- 
tained what  they  among  themselves  considered 
the  happy  medium  in  styles ;  they  neither  gath- 
ered an  exorbitantly  impossible  number  of  yards 
around  the  waist,  nor  did  they,  on  the  other 
hand,  go  to  the  extreme  of  having  their  skirts  — 
when,  at  rare  intervals,  some  one  of  the  little 
suburban  place  contrived  to  get  enough  together 
to  buy  a  new  one  —  so  tight  that  there  would 
be  a  stretch  at  the  seams  and  a  give  in  the  weft 
and  in  the  warp  at  every  sitting.  Clothes,  with 
most  of  those  of  Bleakdale,  were  made  on  a  good, 
comfortable,  easy-going,  utilitarian  pattern,  so 
as  to  last  from  season  to  season  until  actually 
threadbare  and  quite  past  wearing. 

Notwithstanding  durability  of  style  as  well  as 
of  material,  a  winter  of  such  exceptionally  low 
temperatures  had  made  necessary  the  purchase 
of  some  new  clothing. 


16  "  WORRY  " 

There  was,  to  be  sure,  one  man  of  the  com- 
munity who  never  felt  the  "  pinch  of  poverty." 
This  was  Jacobs  —  Mr.  Jacobs,  as  every  one 
called  him  to  his  face  —  the  pioneer,  the  aristo- 
crat of  Bleakdale,  one  of  the  first  to  take  up  his 
home  to  the  right  of  the  electric  line  running 
on  to  the  city  whose  outskirts  were  even  then 
reaching  out  as  though  to  enclose  and  hold  on 
to  the  little  settlement.  And  Mr.  Jacobs,  like 
many  another  on  the  ground  early  with  a  fund 
of  stick- to-itiveness  and  some  ability,  prospered 
apace. 

To  him  and  to  the  monthly  rent  they  paid 
him,  many  times  with  flagrant  irregularity, 
several  families  of  his  immediate  neighborhood 
were  indebted  for  the  roofs  over  their  heads. 
To  him  and  to  his  good  nature  —  and  likewise 
to  his  forethought  in  acquiring  a  competency  — 
those  living  in  his  vicinity  as  well  as  in  his  vari- 
ous houses  were  indebted  now  and  then  for  little 
pleasantries,  little  kindnesses,  which,  together 
with  his  lack  of  stringency  in  regard  to  prompt 
payment  of  rent  due  him,  made  him  one  for 
whom  everybody  had  a  good  word. 

In  all  Bleakdale  there  was  no  one  —  such  is 
the  solicitous  attention  always  accompanying 
the  comings  and  goings,  yes,  even  the  stayings, 
of  one  of  comparative  riches  —  to  whom  those 
dwelling  in  the  village  looked  up  with  greater 
respect,  tinged  just  a  shade  with  obsequious- 


"  WORRY  "  17 

ness,  and  among  those  who,  having  been  spe- 
cially favored,  had  had  occasion  more  than  once, 
to  feel  a  warm  glow  of  gratitude  suffuse  them, 
with  an  affection  bordering  almost  on  reverence, 
for,  after  all,  Mr.  Jacobs  was  one  of  the  oldest 
thereabouts. 

The  extreme  cold  and  its  accompanying  ex- 
penses and  discomforts  had,  as  with  many  an- 
other to  whom  Mr.  Jacobs  had  found  it  necessary 
to  be  lenient,  struck  the  Simkins  family  heavily. 
The  severity  of  the  weather  of  the  opening 
months  of  the  year,  followed  by  the  accident 
which  had  befallen  Mr.  Simkins  while  attempt- 
ing to  abate  his  financial  difficulties  by  a  pivotal 
recapitulation  of  his  affairs,  had  all  together 
brought  the  family  funds  to  a  very  low  state. 

The  girls  still  continued  to  attend  school, 
walking  the  couple  of  miles  or  more  in  the  morn- 
ing ("  East  End  High  "  was  in  the  residence 
district)  sometimes  carrying  with  them  their 
lunches,  sometimes  coming  home  on  the  car  when 
there  had  seemed  little  or  nothing  left  over  in 
the  house  with  which  one  might  make  ready  a 
shoe-box  luncheon. 

Had  it  not  been  her  last  year  in  school,  her 
graduation  year,  Emma,  because  of  the  accumu- 
lation of  family  trials,  would  perhaps  have  given 
up  the  struggle,  and  would  have  sought  some 
employment  more  lucrative  than  that  of  now 
and  then  helping  out  Mrs.  Jacobs  with  a  bit  of 


18  "WORRY" 

work  on  Saturdays  or  afternoons  after  school 
— "  would  perhaps,"  for  one  could  not  always 
place  Emma.  What  work  she  did  was  not  done 
that  she  might  add  the  little  she  received  to  the 
family  fund;  selfish  motives  guided  her  occa- 
sional industry. 

But  Mrs.  Simkins,  mindful  of  her  own  pride 
in  her  girlhood  advantages,  was  determined  that 
both  her  children,  could  she  by  any  contriving 
manage  it,  should  graduate,  as  she  incorrectly 
put  it.  And  so  schooling  climbed  bravely  over 
purse  barriers,  though  Mrs.  S.,  even  in  the 
doing,  worried  with  consistent  constancy  as  to 
how  it  was  going  to  be  done. 

Of  late  the  girls  had  been  coming  home  for 
dinner  every  day,  for  since  their  father's  fall 
their  midday  appearance  had  seemed  to  give 
him  pleasure. 

The  Friday  afternoon,  a  half  holiday,  fol- 
lowing Mrs.  Simkins'  admission  that  her  mind 
was  a  little  more  than  usually  askew,  she  fol- 
lowed her  youngest  daughter,  Myra,  out  into 
the  kitchen  as  they  both  busied  themselves  in 
ridding  the  table  of  dishes  and  of  "  left-overs." 

"  Em's  birthday's  only  a  few  days  off.  It 
don't  take  long  for  a  couple  of  weeks  to  slip 
round  when  there's  a  lot  to  do  to  fill  up  the 
time.  Before  we  know  it  the  house  will  be 
runnin'  over  with  that  graduatin'  class.  I  just 
told  your  pa  we'd  have  to  strain  a  point,  for 


"  WORRY  "  19 

'tain't  every  year  a  girl  can  graduate.  Oh! 
They'll  be  runnin'  all  over,  and  maybe  we'll  be 
ready,  and  maybe  we  won't."  Indecisively 
Mrs.  S.  rehearsed  the  theme  of  her  morning's 
mind's  uneasiness. 

Myra  placed  her  load  of  coarse  white  dishes 
in  the  sink,  a  plain  unenameled  iron  one,  infer- 
ring a  kitchen  far  from  modern. 

"  If  only  the  winter  hadn't  been  so  bad  and 
pa  hadn't  had  to  fall,  and  there  hadn't  been 
so  much  to  pay  out  and — " 

Myra,  like  her  mother  and  like  the  wife  of  a 
certain  Biblical  character,  would  look  back  — 
persisted  in  doing  so,  in  fact,  many  times  with 
tears,  salty  ones. 

"  Come,  My,  crying  don't  pay.  'Tain't 
your  party  anyway,  though  you'll  have  to  do  a 
lot  of  the  plannin'  and  a  good  large  share  of 
the  work,  and  if  we  can't  afford  it,  it'll  save 
you  just  that  much  fuss.  Em's  studyin'  now 
and  she'll  be  studyin'  good  and  steady,  depend 
upon  it,  if  there's  much  work  around.  I  told 
her  'twould  be  just  as  well  to  study  Sunday 
afternoon  and  catch  up  anything  extra  hard 
after  Sunday  supper;  but  seems  like  there's  no 
time  like  dishwashing  time  for  gettin'  book 
learnin'  into  your  head.  Oh,  I  don'  know ! " 
sighed  Mrs.  S.,  as  she  whisked  through  the  open 
door  into  the  dining-room,  pie  tin  and  cloth  in 
hand  to  brush  the  crumbs  from  the  table. 


20  "  WORRY  " 

After  the  manner  of  women  with  the  "  worry  " 
temperament,  Mrs.  S.  was  a  rapid  though  pains- 
taking worker.  Had  she  been  more  deliberate 
in  her  movements  while  doing  her  work  around 
the  house,  less  time  would  there  have  remained 
to  her  in  which  to  wrangle  hazy  suspicions  and 
to  line  up  for  minute  analysis  half-formed  ideas 
of  what  the  future  might  hold  in  store  for  her. 
In  one  quick,  thorough  round  of  brushing  she 
had  rid  the  tablecloth  of  the  little  evidences  of 
carelessness  on  the  part  of  those  who  had  just 
eaten;  she  had  with  a  few  whisks  of  the  broom 
made  the  faded  rag  carpet  of  the  little  dining- 
room  look  brighter,  as  though  carefully  gone 
over ;  and,  after  setting  the  chairs  straight  back 
against  the  wall,  she  had  gone  to  help  My  finish 
wiping  the  dishes. 

"  You  know  I'm  goin'  down  town  this  after', 
My,"  she  confided,  as  though  making  a  repeti- 
tion, "  and  while  I'm  down  I'm  goin'  to  look  at 
some  plain  white  lawn  for  Em's  graduatin' 
dress.  She'll  have  to  have  one,  though  good- 
ness knows  what  we'll  do  without  to  get  it. 
I've  gone  without  sugar  in  my  coffee  ever  since 
pa  was  hurt,  and  we've  all  sopped  our  bread  in 
the  gravy  since  I  don't  know  when  to  save  but- 
ter, to  say  nothin'  of  how  you've  had  to  go  to 
school  in  any  old  thing,  though  whole,  My,  no 
rags  or  tags."  Mrs.  S.  wiped  away  a  tear, 
half  of  sympathy,  half  of  lacerated  pride. 


"  WORRY  "  21 

"  We'll  have  to  get  the  goods  early,"  went 
on  Mrs.  S.,  "  and  you  and  I'll  have  to  cut  it  out 
and  make  it,  for  Em'll  have  her  hands  full  with 
her  essay.  I  guess  we  can  borrow  a  pattern  of 
Mrs.  Jacobs.  They're  about  of  a  size,  for 
Em's  a  bit  big.  We've  got  to  have  something 
different  from  common  duds.  If  Mrs.  Jacobs 
won't  lend  us,  I'll  have  to  get  a  pattern  down 
town." 

And  Mrs.  S.  rambled  on  with  her  elaborate 
planning.  Meanwhile  dishes  found  themselves, 
with  scarcely  a  jar  and  never  a  nick  in  the  find- 
ing, neatly  put  away  behind  a  faint-figured  but 
clean  length  of  calico  curtaining  a  set  of  pine 
board  shelves  only  too  evidently  of  the  store- 
box  variety. 

Myra  stayed  to  wipe  off  the  stove,  to  rinse 
the  dishrag  and  to  tidy  the  kitchen,  while  her 
mother,  her  errands  on  her  mind,  hurried  on  her 
way  upstairs  through  into  the  front  room  where 
sat  Emma  deep  in  her  English  grammar  (the 
high  school  teachers  were  making  a  final  effort 
to  give  the  mother  tongue  a  footing  more  cer- 
tain, more  secure  than  heretofore  before  send- 
ing out  into  the  world  the  recent  products  of 
their  pedagogical  efforts)  and  where  sat  Mr. 
Simkins  lightly  napping  after  his  noonday 
meal. 

As  Mrs.  S.,  attired  for  the  street  and  for  the 
shopping  district  in  a  dingy  black  skirt,  a  warm 


%%  "  WORRY  " 

though  worn  jacket,  and  a  hat  far  from  "  chic," 
descended  the  stairs  but  shortly  after  she  had 
ascended  them,  there  was  a  step  on  the  porch 
and  the  sitting-room  door  opened  with  that  fa- 
miliar and  assured  ease  indicative  of  the  custom 
of  the  near-by  neighbor,  privileged  through' 
long  acquaintance  or  because  of  general  com- 
patibility of  temper  and  similarity  of  taste, 
imagined,  assumed  or  real.  Catching  sight  of 
Mrs.  Simkins  as  she  opened  the  stair  door  into 
the  sitting-room,  the  visitor  began  volubly : 

"  You're  goin'  out,  Mrs.  Simkins.  Go  right 
along.  I  just  came  in  for  a  moment,  anyway. 
I  won't  let  you  set  down  now.  Go  right  on 
your  errand,  whatever  it  is.  I  will  talk  to  Mr. 
S.  and  the  girls  a  moment,  and  then  I'll  be 
a-runnin'  home.  Don't  wait  a  moment  for  such 
as  me." 

Mrs.  Brown  was  one  of  those  gifted  mortals 
who  anticipate  any  likelihood  of  controversy 
by  a  rapid  fire  of  statements  almost  mandatory 
in  tone,  and  sometimes  actually  so  in  results; 
but  this  time,  having  listened  indecisively,  Mrs. 
S.,  already  a  little  overstrung,  with  a  feeling 
of  warding  off  an  attempt  at  dictating  (al- 
though she  well  knew  her  neighbor's  disposition) 
settled  herself  down  in  the  rocker  near  the  fire 
as  Mrs.  Brown  took  a  chair  over  near  Mr.  S. 

"  There's  no  hurry  at  all.  I'm  goin'  down 
town,  to  be  sure ;  but  I  don't  have  to  mind  about 


"  WORRY  "  S3 

gettin'  back  early.  Myra  can  get  the  supper." 
It  was  peculiar  of  Mrs.  Simkins  that  she  never 
pet-named  any  of  her  family  outside  the  family 
circle. 

"  Now  go  right  along ;  don't  mind  me.  And 
I'm  goin'  to  bring  you  over  some  cooked  toma- 
toes with  bread  in  them  to  help  out  My's  meal," 
—  Mrs.  Brown  was  always  liberal  with  her  liber- 
ties. "  Don't  you  wait  another  moment.  It's 
two  o'clock  already,"  insisted  she;  then  turning 
sympathizingly  to  Mr.  Simkins :  "  how's  the 
arm  this  damp  day  ?  Hurts,  don't  it  ?  "  she 
answered  herself  unhesitatingly,  catching, 
doubtless,  a  gleam  of  suffering  in  Mr.  S's.  off 
eye. 

"  Well,  Em,"  she  kept  on,  glancing  at  the 
open  grammar,  "  school's  most  out,  ain't  it? 
Glad  of  it,  I'll  bet." 

"  She'll  be  glad  to  graduate,"  replied  Emma's 
mother  for  her,  M  and  I'll  be  glad  to  have  her. 
But  she'll  be  sorry  enough  next  year  when  she 
sees  Myra  gettin'  ready  for  school  and  knows 
that  she  must  be  gettin'  ready  for  work.  One 
thing  I'm  going  down  town  for  is  to  get  Emma 
some  white  goods  for  a  dress,  something  that'll 
make  up  nice  and  fluffy." 

"Some  dotted  mull  is  wh'at  she  wants," 
averred  Mrs.  Brown  with  compelling  suggestive- 
ness. 

"  Well,  no,  I   think   she's   set  her  heart   on 


M  "WORRY" 

lawn."  Mrs.  S.  glided  smoothly  on,  regardless 
of  Emma's  hurried  look  toward  her.  "  She  says 
it  makes  up  so  beautiful  and  looks  so  elegant 
and  slim.  We  don't  buy  many  clothes,  so  I 
thought  this  once  I'd  let  her  have  just  what 
she  wants."  Mrs.  S.  braced  everything  all 
along  the  line. 

"  I  should  think  dotted  mull  would  be  better 
and  far  prettier.  Plain  lawn  is  apt  to  look  so 
slazy,  and  there's  always  so  much  light  at  com- 
mencement—  not  that  I've  been  since  Maggie 
graduated  —  my  niece  in  the  city,  you  know, 
Mr.  Simkins,"  she  explained  to  Mr.  S.  as  though 
his  memory  might  have  suffered  along  with  his 
arm.  She  had  a  way  of  being  excruciatingly 
specific  when  men  were  around,  as  though  spe- 
cial explanations  were  their  just  due. 

"  Well,"  she  went  on,  rising,  "  it's  plain  to 
be  seen,  Mrs.  Simkins,  you'll  never  get  started 
down  town  while  I'm  here  talking,  so  come  on. 
There's  a  car  up  the  street  now.  I'll  go  out 
and  wait  with  you  at  the  gate  till  it  comes  along. 
Good-by,  Mr.  Simkins,  you'll  soon  be  out,  I'm 
sure.  And  Em,  mull's  better  than  lawn. 
Lawn's  so  wilty  if  the  day's  a  bit  damp,  and 
you'll  sweat  anyway  somethin'  awful  up  on  that 
stage.     Get  the  mull,  Em." 

Just  as  the  two  got  down  the  steps,  Mrs. 
Brown  called  back: 

"  My,  you  save  a  place  for  them  tomatoes  I'm 


"  WORRY  "  25 

a-goin'  to  give  you  for  your  supper.  Your 
ma'll  like  'em  when  she  gets  back.  They're 
mighty  nice  the  way  I  fix  them  with  bread,"  she 
concluded  complacently. 

"  Mrs.  Simkins  seems  to  me  worried,"  men- 
tally commented  Mrs.  Brown,  as  she  waved  a 
sort  of  inclusive  good-by  to  the  rapidly  disap- 
pearing car. 


CHAPTER  III 
BLEAKDALE  ECONOMICS 

Mrs.  Simkins  returned  from  the  city  rather 
late,  hungry  and  altogether  worn  out,  but  bring- 
ing with  her,  besides  a  few  table  supplies,  the 
dress  pattern  of  plain  white  lawn  which  had 
been  the  chief  object  of  her  visit  down  town. 

She  had  started  bravely  on  her  search  for 
something  suitable  yet  cheap,  going  from  store 
to  store  without  finding  just  what  she  wanted 
until  she  became  so  tired  she  had  almost  to  drag 
herself  along.  She  had  seen  two  or  three  pieces 
she  might  possibly  decide  upon  could  she  find 
nothing  better,  but  she  would  wait  and  go  back 
after  she  had  tried  a  few  other  places. 

It  must  have  been  the  fifth  (or  was  it  the  sixth 
or  seventh?)  store  where  she  had  inquired,  with 
a  hesitancy  more  of  weariness  than  of  timidity, 
although  she  was  not  just  at  her  ease  on  the 
city  streets,  for  "  some  lawn,  some  nice  plain 
white  lawn  for  a  graduatin'  dress  —  not  too 
dear,  about  five  cents " —  that  the  clerk  to 
whom  she  addressed  this  set  query,  a  woman  of 
about  her  own  age,  instead  of  immediately  lead- 


"  WORRY  "  27 

ing  ner  to  a  pile  of  loosely  woven  material,  in- 
quired with  real  interest : 

"  You  have  a  daughter  in  this  year's  class  ?  " 
"  Yes,  Emma  Simkins,  my  oldest  child." 
"  I  think  I  have  just  what  you  want.  I,  too, 
have  a  daughter  being  graduated  this  year.  I 
bought  her  a  dress  off  the  same  piece.  I'm  sure 
you'll  like  it.  We've  had  the  piece  in  the  store 
a  good  while,  and  it's  a  little  shopworn,  so  it's 
on  the  bargain  counter."  The  kind-hearted 
clerk  turned  to  see  if  her  apparently  weary  cus- 
tomer were  following  as  she  made  her  way  to 
the  rear  of  the  store.  "  Now,  if  you  don't  want 
to  put  very  much  into  a  dress  and  yet  feel  you 
must  have  something  fine,  this  is  just  what  you 
want,"  and  she  added  with  warm  friendliness, 
"  that's  just  why  I  chose  off  this  goods." 
Hauling  out  a  part  of  a  bolt  of  fine  white  ma- 
terial a  little  mussed  and  a  bit  creamed  in  tint 
from  having  been  long  on  hand,  she  unrolled  a 
yard  or  more  and  held  it  out  that  Mrs.  Simkins 
might  see.  "  I'll  tell  you  just  what  I  am  going 
to  do,"  she  confided.  "  I  had  my  pattern  cut 
off  as  soon  as  the  goods  was  marked  down  for 
fear  it  would  all  be  gone,  and  I'm  going  to  wash 
it  in  light  suds  and  put  it  out  on  the  grass  the 
first  hot  sunny  day.  That  will  bleach  it  out 
like  new.  You  know  this  dreary  weather  won't 
last  much  longer.  It's  such  fine  material  I 
know  it  will  make  up  soft  and  lovely.     The  light 


28  "  WORRY  " 

washing  will,  I  should  think,  improve  it.  I  told 
my  daughter  —  Carrie  Jones  is  her  name ;  you 
must  ask  your  daughter  Emma  (Mrs.  Jones  re- 
called names  readily)  about  her  —  I  told  her 
there  would  not  be  a  daintier  dress  amongst 
them.  And  it's  only  six  cents,"  she  continued; 
"  was  fifteen.  They  call  it  Persian  lawn.  It's 
nothing  at  all  like  the  five  cent  kind  of  stuff  you 
were  thinking  of  getting." 

Mrs.  Simkins,  already  convinced  that  she 
had  within  her  hands  just  what  she  wanted, 
hesitated  a  moment,  partly  to  consider  the  extra 
cent  a  yard  over  what  she  had  planned  to  ex- 
pend, partly  to  give  the  impression  that  she 
was  weighing  the  matter  well  and  was  taking 
time  to  focus  the  light  of  keen  judgment  upon 
the  material  in  question. 

"Well,  you  see  I  had  only  wanted  to  pay 
five  cents,"  she  deliberated. 

"  I  wouldn't  mind,  if  I  were  you,  the  extra 
cent.  Let  the  worry  go  this  time,"  Mrs.  Jones 
said  laughing,  as  though  looking  back  on  many 
of  her  own  twis tings  and  turnings  to  stretch  a 
cent.  "  Your  Emma  will  never  dress  herself 
for  her  own  commencement  again,  you  know; 
and  really,  there  is  no  comparing  this  cloth 
with  anything  anywhere  around  the  price.  To 
be  sure,  you'll  have  to  wash  it,  but  I  know  you 
can  do  it  up  to  look  like  new." 

Mrs.  Jones  was  very  patient,  for  she  herself 


"  WORRY  "  89 

had  sailed  her  little  craft  of  financial  matters 
very  close  to  the  wind  for  many  and  many  a 
year.  Well  she  knew  that  a  penny  saved  is  a 
penny  safe.  And  so  Mrs.  Simkins  decided  on 
the  bargain,  although  it  was  a  little  more  than 
she  had  intended  paying. 

"Where  do  you  live?"  interestedly  inquired 
the  clerk,  Mrs.  Jones,  as  she  measured  off  the 
lawn  and  wrapped  it  up. 

"  At  Bleakdale  —  down  the  car  line,  you 
know." 

"Oh,  yes!  Quite  a  ways  out,  isn't  it?  I'll 
tell  my  daughter  who  is  going  to  have  a  dress 
like  hers.  But,  of  course,  they  won't  look  alike 
after  they're  made  up.  What  are  you  going  to 
trim  with  ?  "  she  turned  again  to  her  customer, 
having  replaced  the  bolt  of  lawn.  "  We  have 
some  very  pretty  laces;  cheap  they  are,  too. 
Would  you  like  to  look  at  them?  " 

Mrs.  Simkins  had  thought  to  make  tiny  ruf- 
fles of  the  material  itself  do  for  trimming,  but 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  a  two  and 
one-half  cent  edging,  especially  when  told  that 
all  the  girls  would  trim  to  some  extent  with  lace, 
as  laces  were  very  much  "  in." 

"  There  goes  the  meat  money  for  tomorrow's 
dinner,"  said  Mrs.  S.  to  herself,  as  she  rapidly 
made  mental  arrangements  for  robbing  Peter 
to  pay  Paul ;  "  but  we'll  have  potato  soup  in- 
stead and  that'll  do  just  as  well  if  I  borrow  a 


30  "  WORRY  " 

piece  of  salt  pork  somewheres  to  make  it  nice 
and  rich.  And  to  think,"  with  some  asperity, 
"  and  to  think  that  Mr.  S.  had  the  gall  to  ask 
me  to  get  him  some  tobacco,  when  we've  so  much 
on  hand  already !  "  The  clerk  caught  a,  to  her 
meaningless,  jerk  of  her  customer's  head. 

The  package  was  opened,  the  few  yards  of 
cheap  lace  were  tucked  within,  and  then  it  was 
carefully  done  up  again  and  tied,  this  time,  for 
fear  the  lace  might  fall  out. 

It  was  already  late,  so  Mrs.  Simkins,  though 
she  meant  to  include  only  the  clerk  who  had 
been  waiting  upon  her,  nervously  bid  a  sort  of 
general  good-by  to  those  near  her,  some  of 
whom  looked  somewhat  surprised  at  the  tired, 
sensitive  looking  woman  as  she  made  her  way 
to  the  door.  She  had  yet  a  few  purchases  to 
make  before  taking  the  car  for  home:  some 
sugar  and  a  little  of  one  or  two  other  things. 
Tired  she  was,  utterly  exhausted,  as  along  about 
seven  o'clock  the  car  stopped  at  the  corner  to 
let  her  off  to  walk  on  past  the  three  or  four 
houses  from  the  corner  to  her  own  gate. 

Myra  was  on  the  lookout  and  rushed  immedi- 
ately to  the  kitchen  to  reheat  the  few  things 
they  had  had  for  supper  for  her  mother's  be- 
lated meal.  Emma  sat  indifferently,  book  in 
hand.  She  herself  had  been  out  for  a  walk 
down  towards  town  in  the  late  afternoon,  and 
had  come  home  just  as  Myra  and  her  father 


"  WORRY  "  81 

were  finishing  their  supper.  She  sometimes  did 
walk  a  while  before  the  supper  hour  down  the 
road  in  the  direction  of  the  city  following  the 
car  line,  but  rarely  was  she  late  for  her  evening 
meal. 

There  were  those  who  said  that  at  times  the 
car  would  stop  on  its  way  from  the  city  at  the 
very  outskirts  of  the  little  suburb  to  let  off  a 
single  passenger,  empty  dinner  pail  in  hand, 
who  would  make  his  way  straight  up  to  a  young 
woman  ostensibly  there  in  the  path  at  the  side 
of  the  road  with  no  other  object  in  view  than 
that  of  meeting  a  stalwart  young  working  man 
and  walking  back,  deep  in  conversation,  toward 
Bleakdale  with  him.  There  were  those  who  felt 
quite  sure  they  knew  the  young  fellow;  but  as 
the  meetings  —  almost  clandestine,  since  the  car 
was  generally  filled  with  passengers  for  a  town 
still  further  down  the  line  —  had  covered  a 
period  only  of  weeks  and  even  then  only  occa- 
sionally, they  had  not  remarked  them  sufficiently 
to  speak  with  any  certainty  about  the  matter. 

Bleakdale,  anyway,  had  several  new  families 
who  had  settled  there  the  September  of  the  year 
past,  and  the  severity  of  the  winter  following 
had  somewhat  congealed  that  spirit  of  curiosity 
relative  to  the  new  arrival  so  prevalent  in  small 
gossiping  towns.  It  might  be,  very  probably 
was,  a  young  man  from  one  of  these  new  families 
who  met  the  young  lady,  now  and  then,  waiting 


M  "  WORRY  » 

near  the  trunk  and  beneath  the  shade  of  a  large 
oak  growing  almost  on  the  roadside  path. 

Emma,  at  any  rate,  had  been  out  for  a  walk, 
and  was  busy  with  her  book  once  more  when  her 
mother,  quite  near  the  end  of  her  powers  of  en- 
durance, pulled  herself  with  evident  exertion  up 
the  steps  to  the  little  landing  before  the  front 
door  —  by  courtesy  a  porch,  though  there  was 
no  roof.  Mr.  Simkins  reached  the  door  just 
in  time  to  turn  the  knob  with  his  injured 
hand. 

"  You  hadn't  ought  to  leave  your  arm  with- 
out a  pillow.  What  did  you  want  to  be  so  ever- 
lastingly polite  anyway  for?  I  guess  I'm  not 
so  done  out  but  what  I  can  turn  a  knob.  I 
didn't  get  you  any  tobacco,  if  that's  what  you're 
so  anxious  to  know  about.  Awful  to  be  without 
your  smoke,  ain't  it,  and  here  I  didn't  have 
enough  money  even  to  buy  our  meat  for  tomor- 
row ! " 

Mrs.  Simkins  was  tired  enough  and  suffi- 
ciently overwrought  to  indulge  in  sarcasm,  the 
certain  outlet  of  nervous  tension  with  the  quick- 
witted—  unless  tears  come  first — and  judi- 
ciously secretive  enough  to  fail  to  say  anything 
about  her  little  extravagance  of  the  afternoon, 
her  indulgence  in  the  pride  she  took  in  her 
daughter's  appearance. 

Mr.  S.  with  a  sidelong  glance  at  his  weary 
wife,  decided  in   a  rapid  moment  that  a  full 


"  WORRY  "  S3 

stomach  helps  over  many  a  family  divergence 
of  opinion  and  threatened  altercation. 

u  Now,  My  has  your  supper  all  nicely  warmed 
over  for  you.     You  go  right  out  and  set  down." 

He  forbore  to  tell  her,  however,  sympathiz- 
ingly,  how  tired  she  looked,  and  how  sorry  he 
felt  that  she  had  had  such  a  trying  afternoon. 
"  Least  said  soonest  mended "  experience  had 
taught  him. 

Just  then  My,  bringing  in  a  cup  of  tea  from 
the  kitchen,  called  cheerily: 

"  Supper,  Mother." 

And  Mother,  throwing  aside  her  jacket, 
slipped  out  into  the  dining-room  and  into  a 
chair  as  though  she  could  not  for  the  life  of  her 
possibly  tell  how  she  had  ever  managed  to  get 
there. 

"  Why  Mother,  your  hat !  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  hat !  Let  me  have  a 
sip  of  this  tea." 

But  Myra,  after  having  set  the  cup  of  tea  be- 
fore her  mother,  unpinned  the  hat,  laid  it  on  a 
chair  near  by,  and  smoothed  for  a  moment  with 
her  steady  young  hand  the  tired  brow. 

"  I  put  sugar  in  your  tea,  Mother,"  she  said 
affectionately. 

"  I'm  glad  of  that  " —  Mrs.  S.  accepted  the 
little  extravagance  as  something  she  had  earned 
— "  a  little  sweetening  when  you're  tired  and 
worried  is  just  the  thing." 


34  "  WORRY  " 

"  And  I  saved  a  dish  of  the  tomatoes  Mrs. 
Brown  brought  in.  She  said  I  should  be  sure 
not  to  eat  them  all  up.  Cooked  with  bread  they 
are.     I  know  you'll  like  them." 

There  was  besides  a  slice  of  bacon  and  some 
potatoes  fried  in  the  fat,  so  altogether  Mrs.  S. 
made  out  very  well.  True  to  her  husband's 
theory,  her  stomach's  needs  having  been  at- 
tended to,  immediately  her  spirits  rose  and  her 
temper  lost  its  edge. 

Emma  all  this  time  had  sat  by  the  lamp  to 
all  appearances  deeply  absorbed  in  her  book. 
She  had  paid  no  attention  to  her  mother's  re- 
turn other  than  barely  to  look  up  for  a  mo- 
ment indolently,  although  she  doubtless  realized 
that  the  long  round  parcel  which  her  mother 
carried  under  her  arm  (the  other  purchases  in 
her  hands)  contained  something  of  interest  to 
her.  She  had  let  the  package  lie  on  the  table 
where  her  mother  had  aimlessly  dropped  it  on 
her  way  out  to  her  supper. 

Upon  coming  into  the  sitting-room  Mrs.  Sim- 
kins,  anxious  to  see  whether  her  purchase  of  the 
afternoon  would  still  appeal  to  her,  rested  as 
she  was  and  more  capable  of  judging  —  more- 
over desirous  of  finding  out  what  Emma  thought 
about  the  goods  —  went  to  the  parcel  and  un- 
wrapped it,  laying  a  fold  of  the  lawn  across 
Emma's  lap,  that  she  might  examine  it  without 
in  any  way  incommoding  herself. 


"  WORRY  "  35 

"  I  think  it's  just  beautiful.  Don't  you, 
Em?     So  fine  and  soft!" 

Emma  nodded  a  half-hearted  approval  rather 
as  if  to  say  she  was  sorry  she  had  been  born 
into  a  family  too  poor  or  too  "  do-less  "  to  af- 
ford silk  for  daughters. 

"  But  see,  Em,"  went  on  her  mother  enthusi- 
astically, as  under  the  mellow  light  of  the  coal 
oil  lamp  the  material  took  on  even  a  finer  weave 
than  it  had  in  the  store,  while  its  slight  dingi- 
ness  was  almost  unnoticeable,  "  just  see  how  fine 
and  hangy  it  is.  You'll  look  as  slim  as  a  —  as 
a  — "  Mrs.  S.  groped  for  a  suitable  simile. 
"  You'll  look  as  slim  as  a  trolley  pole,"  she 
concluded,  (smiling  lightly  at  her  far-fetched 
comparison.  "  And  Mrs.  Jacobs  she  says, 
*  Slim's  the  thing,'  though  goodness  knows  we 
never  bother  our  heads  about  the  styles  here, 
only  Mrs.  Jacobs;  and  she  wouldn't  if  she 
didn't  have  that  sister-in-law  down  in  the  city 
to  spur  her  up  —  her  brother's  wife,  Pa,"  an- 
swering Mr.  Simkins'  look  of  inquiry.  "  And 
do  you  know,  Em,  I  never  would  have  done  so 
well  if  I  hadn't  had  a  clerk  who  's  a  mother  to 
wait  on  me.  Her  daughter  is  in  your  class, 
Carrie  Jones.  Do  you  know  her  more  than  to 
know  of  her?  " 

"  Oh,  Carrie ! "  was  Emma's  languid,  disin- 
terested reply. 

"  Well,  she's  goin'  to  have  a  dress  just  like 


36  "WORRY" 

yours.  The  material 's  the  same,  though  maybe 
the  makin'  '11  be  different.  Likely  will  be.  I 
never  would  have  got  it  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that 
Carrie's  ma.  She  was  so  'commodatin'  and  she 
just  had  me  get  this  bargain.  Fifteen  cents, 
Em,  a  yard — " 

Em  brightened  perceptibly. 

"  And  I  got  it  for  six." 

Em  resumed  her  wooden  manner. 

"  The  lace,  Em,  see  the  lace !  Mrs.  Jones' 
daughter  has  some  too.  You  two'll  be  the  best 
dressed  on  the  stage." 

But  Myra  was  the  one  who  took  real  interest 
and  enjoyment  in  the  new  dress  goods.  She 
was  glad  of  the  feel  of  the  lawn,  glad  to  know 
she  was  to  help  make  the  dress,  glad  to  know, 
after  a  long  season  of  privation,  that  the  family 
had  something  new  in  the  house  even  if  it  was 
not  to  be  hers. 

"  I'm  going  to  run  down  to  Mrs.  Jacobs 
right  now,  girls.  It's  not  so  very  late  and  she 
may  be  lending  that  pattern  to  some  one  else 
if  we  don't  speak  for  it  early."  Mrs.  Simkins 
looked  toward  her  daughters,  as  she  again  put 
on  her  jacket,  so  hurriedly  thrown  aside  some 
little  time  before.  She  did  not  tell  Emma  they 
would  have  to  wait  for  a  hot  May  day  sun  to 
whiten  a  new  look  into  the  bargain  goods. 

"  But,  Mother,  you  must  be  tired  to  death 


"  WORRY  "  37 

after  all  your  tramping  around  down  town. 
There  wasn't  much  left  of  you  when  you  got 
home,  remember,"  admonished  Myra. 

"  Buyin'  somethin'  nice  and  gettin'  it  cheap 
and  havin'  a  nice  meal  to  end  the  day  when  a 
person  is  worn  to  a  shadder  would  rest  any 
soul.  This  mornin'  I  was  all  in  pieces  worryin' 
about  that  dress  and  that  party  and  when  I  got 
home  tonight  I  was  '  all  in  ' ;  now  here's  the  dress 
already  bought  and  lace  to  trim  it,  which  I 
hadn't  thought  of  buyin'.  Oh,  I  could  walk  a 
mile,"  resumed  Mrs.  Simkins,  "  and  never  know 
I  was  goin'.  You'd  rather  have  lace  on  your 
sister's  dress  than  meat  in  your  stomach  any- 
way, wouldn't  you,  you  unselfish  child !  "  And 
Mrs.  Simkins  in  the  exuberance  of  her  mood 
kissed  her  younger  daughter  warmly.  "  Never 
you  mind,  I've  a  very  nice  dinner  planned  for 
tomorrow.  Do  you  know,"  presciently,  "  I  can 
almost  see  Em's  party  just  around  the  corner 
of  the  middle  of  May." 

Mrs.  Simkins  had  spells  of  being  far,  far  up 
afloat  the  fleecy  whiteness  of  the  clouds,  and 
they  in  part  compensated  for  her  periods  of 
deep,  wrinkling  depression. 

The  whole  family  was  to  feel  the  uplifting 
effects  of  having  something  new  in  the  house. 
When  the  next  week  wore  on  and  a  few  days 
more,  and  the  weather  became  sunny  and  warm 


38  "  WORRY  " 

with  the  coming  of  May,  the  Simkins  household 
began  to  bloom  in  spirits  as  did  the  flowers 
under  the  urging  of  the  summer  sunshine. 

It  Was  close  on  to  ten  o'clock  when  Mrs.  Sim- 
kins  returned  from  her  visit  to  the  Jacobs. 
She  had  the  promise  of  the  paper  pattern  for 
the  "  slim  "  dress  just  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Jacobs 
could  cut  out  a  new  cambric  she  was  going  to 
make  from  it.  Besides  the  promise  she  had 
something  else  on  a  little  plate  covered  over 
with  an  inverted  paper  bag.  This  she  took  im- 
mediately down  cellar  and  put  it  into  her  little 
screen  cupboard. 

"  I  guess  we'll  have  some  mighty  fine  potato 
soup  for  tomorrow's  dinner,  good  and  rich," 
she  said  to  the  family  upon  returning  to  the 
sitting-room.  "  I'll  tell  you,  Em,"  she  added 
with  marked  emphasis,  "  I'm  awfully  glad  I 
could  see  my  way  through  to  getting  you  that 
lace." 

Obviously  Emma's  ambitions  were  not  to  be 
compassed  by  a  bit  of  trimming.  She  seemed 
preoccupied.  Had  she,  too,  caught  the 
"  worry  "  fever? 


CHAPTER  IV 
DOWN  THE  CAR  LINE 

The  car  stopped  this  bright,  sunny,  beauti- 
ful, zephyry  May  morning,  as  was  its  custom 
morning  after  morning,  probably  from  force 
of  habit  on  the  part  of  the  motorman,  for  no- 
body ever  seemed  to  press  any  of  the  little  shell 
buttons  at  intervals  along  the  interior.  The 
car  stopped  for  more  than  a  moment  down  past 
the  heart  of  the  city  quite  in  the  "  West  End  " 
at  the  corner  of  a  large  brick  building  back  a 
ways  from  the  street,  on  its  face  a  factory  — 
unquestionably  so  from  the  immense  stacks  in 
the  rear  over  what  was  evidently  the  boiler  room 
and,  too,  from  the  thick,  jetty  volume  of  smoke 
issuing  for  the  moment  therefrom. 

It  was  but  a  little  after  the  first  whistle,  so 
the  crowd  of  some  twenty  (most  of  them  men 
whom  the  car  had  picked  up  from  corner  to  cor- 
ner on  its  first  trip  down  from  the  east  end  of  the 
line)  filed  leisurely  out,  dinner  pails  held  close 
to  the  sides  for  fear  an  inadvertent  jostling 
might  dislodge  thereby  some  of  the  viands 
within  and  might  in  the  spilling  render  un- 


40  "  WORRY  " 

eatable  a  choice  piece  of  pie  or  else  of  cake,  for 
like  the  plaster  of  the  world's  second  city, 
lunches  lose  much  —  if  not  all  —  by  a  too  early 
mixing.  Having  disgorged  well-nigh  all  its 
early  morning  load,  slowly  the  car  moved  on 
down  the  line  on  its  way  to  the  suburbs  of  the 
"  West  End." 

The  men  and  the  four  or  five  girls  who  had 
just  alighted  stood,  for  the  most  part,  in  inti- 
mate little  groups  in  the  factory  yard,  gossip- 
ing and  chatting,  or  else  talking  seriously. 
There  were  many  others  there  also  waiting  to 
begin  work  besides  these  who  had  just  arrived, 
for  the  factory  was  a  large  concern  employing 
both  men  and  women  by  the  score,  many  of 
whom  lived  within  walking  distance  of  the  plant, 
others  who  came  in  by  car  from  various  parts 
of  the  city.  All  were  waiting  in  the  delightful 
air  of  the  fresh,  crisp  morning  for  the  second 
whistle  to  summon  them  to  their  day's  work. 

Even  those  who  took  a  real  interest  in  their 
monotonous  employment  (the  vast  majority  do 
not,  for  factory  work  of  the  day  laborer  is  to 
many  a  nerve-racking  repetition  of  doing  this 
or  that  little,  trifling  bit  of  thing,  in  itself  alone 
insignificant,  meaningless,  always  the  same  — 
only  in  its  assembled  form  having  a  definite  and 
realizable  value),  even  the  painstaking,  wished 
the  whistle  might  forget  to  blow  that  delicious 
morning,  so  much  more  enjoyable  was  it  to 


"  WORRY "  41 

stand  on  the  grass  beneath  the  trees  out  in  the 
open  air  than  to  sit  or  stand  at  thought-stifling 
employment  within  the  close,  ugly  red  brick  of 
the  walls  doing  this  or  that  tiny  mite  of  thing 
over  and  over  again  interminably.  Had  any 
of  them  stopped  to  think,  they  might  have 
reached  the  conclusion  that  even  their  daily 
wage  scarcely  compensated  for  the  complete 
sinking  of  personality,  the  merging  of  individ- 
uality, at  least  for  a  large  portion  of  the  day, 
into  one  dreadful  abyss  of  sameness. 

But  many  of  them  had  no  individuality,  no 
personality  worth  sinking  or  in  truth  sinkable. 
Many  there  were,  in  fact,  who  lolled  listlessly 
in  the  sun  against  the  hot  tinted  red  of  the 
wall  speaking  to  nobody,  apparently  waiting, 
waiting,  waiting,  just  languidly  loitering,  re- 
signed to  begin  the  daily  grind,  waiting  as 
doubtless  they  would  wait  thirty,  forty,  fifty 
years  hence  to  be  swept  as  uncomplainingly,  as 
dormantly,  as  unresistingly,  into  eternity. 

One  of  one  of  the  live  groups  who  awaited 
the  beginning  of  his  toil,  not  on  the  hard  gravel 
of  the  walk  close  to  the  horrid  red  of  the  brick, 
but  out  on  the  refreshing  green  of  the  grass 
close  to  the  maples,  was  a  young  man  of  perhaps 
three  and  twenty,  certainly  not  many  months 
more.  His  coat  hung  evenly  over  one  arm 
stretched  out,  the  hand  lightly,  not  leaningly, 
placed  against  a  maple's  trunk  as  though  he 


m  "  WORRY  » 

enjoyed  the  cool  feel  and  slight  unevenness  of 
its  bark,  and  the  dinner  pail  in  the  other  kept 
up  a  slight,  easy,  not-at-all-impatient  swing. 

The  seven  or  eight  in  the  group  waiting  near 
him,  of  which  he  formed  a  part,  seemed  to  take 
rather  a  special  interest  in  him,  as  though  they 
enjoyed  something  in  his  personality,  restful 
perhaps,  attractive  certainly  in  that  it  attracted 
—  or  was  it  by  accident  that  these  same  ones 
grouped  themselves  on  so  many  occasions  when 
time  was  theirs  near  him? 

There  are  those  even  in  the  common  walks  of 
life  who  seem  to  possess  a  magnetic  something 
about  them,  quite  without  their  being  conscious 
of  it  or  its  power,  that  raises  them  a  little  or 
a  great  deal  above  the  level  of  those  with  whom 
they  are  constantly  thrown.  Not  always  a 
brilliancy  is  it;  many  times  only  a  friendliness, 
a  constancy,  a  sincerity  of  disposition. 

This  young  man  of  about  three  and  twenty 
had  not  been  for  long  at  the  factory  —  merely 
a  matter  of  months  —  yet  in  that  length  of 
time  he  had  made  a  place  for  himself  save  in  the 
hearts  of  those  apathetic  automatons  to  be 
found  in  all  large  groups  of  individuals.  He 
was  accounted  a  fine  workman  by  his  employers, 
a  good,  well-meaning  fellow  by  all  the  employees 
who  did  any  accounting,  and  by  a  certain  few 
with  intimate  friendliness  bordering  on  some- 
thing akin  to  homage. 


"  WORRY  »  43 

They  had  been  talking  such  a  little  while  it 
seemed  to  them  when  the  second  whistle  blew 
and  the  workers  in  this  busy  hive  filed  in  rapidly 
to  their  several  places. 

"  Hurry  up,  Joe,"  called  some  one,  without 
looking  back,  as  he  hurriedly  ascended  the  three 
steps  to  the  open  factory  door.  But  there  was 
no  need,  for  "  Joe  "  had  started  at  the  first  sizz 
of  steam  in  the  great  whistle,  and  was  even  then 
busily  at  work  finishing  off  little  castings  of 
iron  which  when  assembled  with  other  compan- 
ion pieces  made  up  the  mechanism,  a  labor-sav- 
ing device,  the  principal  product  of  this  "  West 
End  "  house. 

So  passed  the  morning,  each  one  in  this  busy 
place  intent  upon  doing  the  little  successively 
given  him  to  do  as  well  as  he  could  from  force  of 
character  rather  than  from  any  absorbing  in- 
terest in  his  lack-variety  occupation;  or  slight- 
ing the  tasks  as  near  the  border  line  of  loss  of 
salary  as  could  be  risked  with  any  degree  of  se- 
curity in  not  being  found  out. 

Joe  Kuntz  was  not  one  to  slight  anything  to 
which  he  might  lay  his  hand.  Into  his  work, 
no  matter  what,  he  threw  a  quiet  enthusiasm 
which  compelled  whatever  he  might  be  doing  to 
yield  to  him,  if  to  no  one  else  similarly  engaged, 
an  interesting  side,  and  so  Joe's  working  period, 
as  with  any  one  trying  to  make  the  most  out  of 
the  flying  hours,  passed  as  time  always  did  for 


44  "  WORRY  " 

him,  whatever  he  might  be  doing,  rapidly  and 
pleasantly.  Each  pay  day  found  waiting  for 
him  a  full  pay  envelope  without  a  cent  deducted 
for  any  cause  whatsoever.  Those  who  knew 
said  that  Joe  had  been  able  to  lay  up  quite  a 
nice  little  sum  of  money. 

"  You  must  have  about  enough  to  start  house- 
keeping on  by  this  time,"  one  of  the  group  by 
the  maple  had  said  jokingly  that  very  morning, 
one  who  for  all  his  agreeableness  as  an  ac- 
quaintance and  faithfulness  as  an  employee  was 
known  to  indulge  in  recreation  a  little  more 
stimulating  and  considerably  more  expensive 
than  that  of  attending  picture  shows.  And 
just  a  boy  he  was,  too. 

One  could  not  anger  Joe,  and  "  kidding " 
slipped  over  his  head  as  though  he  thought  it 
quite  beyond  any  possibility  that  any  one  would 
consider  him  of  sufficient  importance  to  care  to 
waste  any  time  trying  to  tease  him.  He  had 
answered  readily  enough  without  a  hint  of  com- 
placency : 

"  You  are  right,  Jack.  I  have  quite  a  bit 
laid  by  —  for  a  rainy  day,"  he  added  vaguely, 
smiling  slightly  and  coloring  almost  imper- 
ceptibly. One  could  see  with  but  half  a  try 
that  Joe  was  getting  off  one  of  his  dry  little 
pleasantries.  Evidently  the  money  was  not  for 
a  rainy  day  at  all,  for  there  was  equivocation 
in  the  meaning  smile  and  covert  sensitiveness  in 


"  WORRY  "  45 

the  slight  blush.  Could  it  be  the  money  was  for 
a  sunny  day,  a  day  without  a  cloud  anywhere 
in  the  blue  above,  a  day  of  great  happiness  for 
Joe  —  and  for  one  other? 

Joe's  morning  passed  away  and  in  the  pass- 
ing there  was  always  a  half  formed  smile  lighting 
his  contented  countenance;  in  his  eyes  there 
was  the  light  of  joy  agone  and  joy  ahead. 

When  the  noon  hour  came  several  there  were 
who  made  their  way  to  where  Joe  sat  with  his 
lunch,  and  Jack  had  much  to  say  about  a  gener- 
ous sized  piece  of  cake  which  Joe  ate  —  so  they 
all  said  —  as  though  it  were  something  more  than 
ordinary  cake,  to  which  Joe  ingenuously  re- 
plied : 

"  It  is  more  than  ordinary  cake,  to  be  sure. 
My  mother  made  it,"  and  then  added  without 
a  show  of  suspicion,  scarcely  of  average  curi- 
osity, "  come,  Jack,  what  are  you  driving  at  ?  " 

After  all,  nobody  knew  very  much  about  Joe 
except  as  they  were  thrown  with  him  on  the 
car  and  in  and  around  the  factory  where  they 
all  worked.  They  knew  that  he  had  not  been 
working  at  the  factory  more  than  a  few 
months ;  and  they  had  half  an  idea  that  he  and 
his  people  had  come  from  another  state  a  day 
or  so  before  Joe  had  taken  up  his  work  amongst 
them,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  nobody  cared 
to  know  more  than  that  Joe  was  a  thoroughly 
good,    whole-souled   fellow,    one    who,    judging 


46  "  WORRY  " 

from  his  manner  and  his  habits,  was  beyond 
question  a  "  saver."  They  did  know,  however 
—  and  that  for  a  certainty  —  that  he  lived 
farther  down  the  car  line  than  any  of  the  men 
of  the  factory  out  that  way,  probably  in  or 
near  Bleakdale,  for  he  was  always  on  the  car 
mornings  when  it  made  its  first  corner  stop  to 
let  on  two  brothers  living  what  was  thought  to 
be  a  good  ways  down  the  line,  taking  it  from 
the  factory  in  the  "  West  End." 

Once  about  three  weeks  ago,  before  these  two 
brothers  and  fellow  workmen  had  come  to  their 
getting  off  place,  Joe  had  left  the  car  hurriedly, 
while  still  within  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and 
had  rushed  to  meet  a  young  lady  on  the  side- 
walk, evidently  there  with  no  other  purpose 
than  awaiting  him.  But  this  had  occurred  only 
the  one  time.  Always  before  and  since  Joe  re- 
mained behind  in  the  car  when  they  themselves 
alighted.  Whether  or  not  it  was  his  custom  to 
meet  young  ladies  on  his  way  home  from  work, 
whether  it  was  his  custom  to  meet  a  certain 
young  lady  some  where  along  the  way,  they 
could  not  say.  All  they  knew  about  it  was  they 
had  seen  him  leave  the  car  that  once.  It  told 
on  its  face  value  for  just  what  it  was  worth. 
They  had  seen  him  get  off  the  car  that  once 
and  go  to  meet  a  young  lady  unknown  to  either 
of  them. 

But  "  that  once  "  had  occasioned  endless  and 


"  WORRY  "  47 

searching  conjecture,  especially  among  those 
who  were  not  "  savers."  It  was  surreptitiously 
circulated,  even  among  the  girls  at  the  factory, 
that  friend  "  Joe  "  had  seriously  under  consid- 
eration the  project  of  transforming  himself  into 
a  benedict. 

"  It  might  have  been  his  sister,  for  all  you 
know  about  it,"  one  of  the  younger  of  the  women 
had  advanced  apologetically.  She  was  rather 
pretty  and  much  preferred  to  have  young  men 
safe  under  the  protecting  guidance  of  obliging 
sisters  unless,  perchance,  she  should  be  the  one 
to  receive  little  attentions. 

"  Yes,  and  it  might  have  been  his  grand- 
mother," some  one  had  retorted,  teasingly. 

That  evening  on  their  way  home  from  the 
factory,  if  the  two  brothers  who  had  that  first 
time  noticed  and  remarked  upon  their  fellow- 
worker's  interest  in  a  young  woman  standing 
expectantly  by  the  roadside  as  the  car  came 
along,  had  but  remained  in  the  car  and  ridden 
on  to  the  next  stop  past  their  own,  they  would 
have  seen  a  repetition  of  the  incident  that  had 
caused  them  mildly  to  wonder;  for  Joe,  well 
they  knew,  was  certainly  not  one  to  put  him- 
self out  to  the  extent  of  getting  off  a  car  to 
walk  unless  there  was  some  special  reason  for 
it. 

"  I've  been  waiting  for  twenty  minutes  or 
more,  Joe,"  complained  Emma,  as  he  joined  her 


48  «  WORRY  " 

and  they  began  to  walk  on  in  the  direction  of 
the  rapidly  receding  car,  toward  Bleakdale. 
"Was  the  car  late?" 

"  It  may  have  been  a  little,"  vouchsafed  Joe 
breezily,  "  but  very  likely  your  clock  at  home 
needs  a  little  fixing.  I  guess  you  started  out 
a  little  too  early." 

"  I  didn't  start  out  at  all,"  began  Emma 
enigmatically.  "  I  haven't  been  home  yet.  I 
walked  from  school  and  stopped  into  Kemble's 
to  wait  until  time  to  go  down  to  the  tree  where 
I've  always  waited  for  you.  It  was  their  clock, 
I  guess." 

"  But  yours  is  off  too,  because  last  night  I 
looked  particular  at  your  clock  just  before  I 
left  your  house,  and  when  I  got  home  ours  was 
twenty  minutes  slower.  And  I  allowed  myself 
exactly  fifteen  minutes  for  the  walk,"  concluded 
Joe  with  accuracy. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  think  it's  off  you  can 
regulate  it  when  you  come  up.  Pa  don't  pay 
much  attention  to  the  clock  since  he's  been  laid 
up.  But  the  doctor  says  Monday  sure  his  arm 
will  be  all  right  and  he  can  go  to  work,  so  it'll  be 
just  as  well  to  have  the  clock  right,  though 
he  always  hears  his  factory  whistle  easy  unless 
the  wind's  blowing  strong  the  other  way." 
Then  Emma  continued  confidentially :  "  It'll  be 
awfully  nice  to  have  Pa  out  of  the  house 
through  the  day.     Someway  or  other  he  seems 


"  WORRY  "  49 

to  get  on  Ma's  nerves  something  fierce.  She 
says  he  *  worries '  her.  I  wonder  if  I'll  ever 
worry  anybody ,"  she  queried  aimlessly. 

"  You'll  worry  that  mother  of  yours  if  we 
don't  hurry  along,"  ejaculated  Joe  practically. 
"  Let's  walk  faster." 

"  I  was  just  a-wondering  whether  I'll  always 
be  *  a-worrying '  Ma,"  she  asked  demurely,  and 
then  a  trifle  coquettishly,  "  do  you  think  any 
one  else  will  ever  want  me  around  to  worry 
them?" 

They  walked  on  in  silence. 

"  I  was  eighteen  day  before  yesterday,"  she 
volunteered  after  a  little,  with  some  show  of 
spirit. 

"  Do  you  think  your  ma  would  be  very  much 
more  worried  if  she  had  two  men  around  the 
house  instead  of  just  one?  "  he  inquired  with 
marked  hesitancy. 

She  gave  him  one  look.  Though  it  was  dusk 
she  caught  a  gleam  in  his  eye  that  flashed  into 
the  very  depths  of  her  own  spirit  and  then  — 

It  was  quite  pitch-dark  when  the  lovers 
reached  home,  and  Mrs.  Simpkins  was  out  on 
the  "  courtesy  porch,"  looking  this  way  and 
that,  up  and  down  the  road,  skywards  even,  as 
though  she  thought  possibly  her  eldest  child 
might  have  been  transfigured. 

"  Here  they  are,  Pa,"  she  called,  very  much 
relieved,  as  Joe  and  Emma  made  their  appear- 


50  "WORRY" 

ance  as  two  dark  somethings  down  at  the  gate. 
She  rushed  down  the  steps  and  down  the  path 
to  meet  them.  "  My  goshen !  Dearie  me !  I 
was  worried,"  she  exclaimed  nervously,  all  in  a 
flutter,  "  until  I  see  you  was  with  her,  Joe." 
Then  with  confidence,  "  But  I  ain't  goin'  to 
worry  no  more." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Joe,  feeling  in  some  way  or 
other  complimented,  and  he  kissed  Mrs.  Sim- 
kins  a  rousing  smack  square  on  the  lips,  dark  as 
it  was. 

Mrs.  Simkins  wondered  for  sometime  that 
night  how  Joe  Kuntz  had  acquired  such  skill 
and  precision  in  matters  osculatory. 

"  But  I  haint  goin'  to  worry  no  more,"  she 
finally  remembered.  Then  she  rolled  over  and 
dropped  off  into  deep  slumber. 

Doubtless  through  some  sympathetic  influ- 
ence the  others  of  the  Simkins  household  rested 
more  quietly  that  night  and  the  following  morn- 
ing awakened  more  than  usually  refreshed, 


CHAPTER  V 
DRESSMAKING:  PREPARATIONS 

May  had  seen  several  hot  days,  but  Mrs. 
Simkins  had  not  yet  got  around  to  the  work  of 
renovating  the  bargain  lawn  for  the  new  dress, 
though  the  brightness  and  bleaching  power  of 
the  intense  sun  could  not  have  in  any  way  fallen 
short  of  her  requirements.  There  seemed  to 
be  plenty  of  time  on  hand.  Original  plans  had 
missed  their  mark  as  originals  have  a  way  of 
doing  in  certain  poorly  regulated  families. 

Emma   for   reasons   best    known    to  herself, 

reasons  which  though  urged  strongly  to  do  so 

she     refused    pertinaciously    to    divulge,    had 

altered  all  her  ideas  and  desires  about  the  party 

she  was  to  give.     It  could  not  now  very  well 

be  called  a  birthday  party  —  save  arbitrarily 

I — for  her  birthday,   her   eighteenth,   was   an 

event  already  several  days  buried  in  the  dead 

past ;  it  should  not  be  a  "  class  "  party,  for, 

though  she  should  invite  the  members  of  her 

class  and  they  could  come  or  not  as  they  chose, 

there  were  others  that  she  wished  to  include 

among  her  guests,  some  outsiders,  many  of  them 
51 


52  «  WORRY  " 

much  older  than  was  she  herself.  The  presence 
of  these  would  preclude  styling  the  function  a 
"  class "  party.  Moreover,  the  date  for  the 
giving  of  the  affair  was  to  be  postponed  until 
the  evening  of  June  first  instead  of  some  time 
near  the  middle  of  May. 

Emma  persisted  in  refusing  to  give  a  reason 
for  altering  her  ideas  as  to  what  she  considered 
a  fitting  day  for  her  party.  She  did,  however, 
advance  the  veiled  excuse  that,  as  the  season 
had  been  late  anyway,  the  party  might  as  well 
be  a  little  far  along  too.  This  change  of  date 
fell  in  with  Mrs.  Simkins'  opinion  about  the 
matter  too,  for  she  knew  that  by  the  day  de- 
cided upon  by  Emma,  June  first,  there  would 
be  quite  a  bit  more  lucre  in  the  family  till.  Mr. 
Simkins  had  been  working  steadily  since  he 
began  that  Monday  morning  now  over  a  week 
ago,  and  though  some  of  the  cash  had  gone 
skyward  in  well-defined  wreaths  and  shadowy 
wraiths  of  bluish  white  smoke  —  for  pa  was 
smoke-hungry  —  enough  had  found  its  way 
into  Mrs.  Simkins'  keep  to  make  her,  with  the 
certainty  of  more  soon,  feel  that  they,  the  fam- 
ily, would  before  long  be  on  an  easy  financial 
footing.  Debts  there  were  to  pay,  but  that 
was  only  a  sign  that  people  had  confidence  in 
them.     The  debts  could  wait  a  while  longer. 

Commencement,  of  course,  would  not  be  until 
June  eighth  and  Mrs.  S.  would  try  to  squeeze 


"  WORRY  "  53 

out  of  that  week  between  the  party  and  the 
graduation  exercises  enough  money  to  buy 
Emma  a  narrow  sash  of  white  satin  ribbon  to 
wear  with  the  lawn  and  brighten  it  up  some. 
To  be  sure,  she  did  not  know  whether  or  not  it 
would  be  just  appropriate  or  "  in,"  as  the 
woman  at  the  store  had  said  of  laces ;  but  she 
did  know  they  wore  ribbon  sashes  when  she  was 
a  girl,  and  she  did  know  a  sash  would  alter 
the  appearance  of  the  dress  which  had  of  neces- 
sity to  be  worn  first  at  the  June  party,  and 
therefore  would  be  likely  to  stand  in  need  of  a 
little  touching  up. 

The  girls  had  been  in  regular  attendance  at 
their  classes  and  Emma  had  been  more  and  more 
preoccupied  as  the  final  term  of  her  school  work 
drew  to  its  close.  Even  Mrs.  Jacobs,  to  whom 
she  was  as  a  matter  largely  of  sentiment  almost 
feudally  attached  in  part  because  of  a  friendly 
leniency  in  anything  touching  rent  and  its 
prompt  payment,  could  never  any  more  get 
Emma  to  do  any  of  the  little  tasks  which  it  had 
been  her  custom,  by  way  of  accommodation, 
heretofore  to  perform  in  her  spare  moments. 
The  preparation  of  her  commencement  essay 
was  her  ready  excuse  for  not  doing  the  little 
things  she  was  expected  to  do,  and  this  excuse 
stood  her  in  good  stead  in  more  than  one  in- 
stance. 

Her  mother,  though,  had  confided  under  seal 


54  "  WORRY  " 

of  secrecy  —  when  at  last  she  got  it  settled  in 
her  mind  that  Emma's  dress  must  be  bleached 
and  made  up  and  so  had  gone  down  the  street 
to  Mrs.  Jacobs  to  borrow  the  "  slim  "  pattern  — 
that  Emma's  time  seemed  to  be  considerably 
more  taken  up  with  "  sayin'  "  than  with  "  es- 
sayin'." 

"  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Jacobs,  she  just  sits 
and  talks  by  the  hour  evenin'  after  evenin'  with 
that  Joe.  He's  been  kind  a-sweet  on  her  ever 
since  that  Christmas  tree  social  last  year  at 
our  church.  They  spend  so  much  time  talkin', 
low-like,  that  when  she's  goin'  to  get  that  essay 
composed  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  make  out. 
I've  heard  tell  you  can  buy  'em  already  writ 
out  if  you  want  to.  Maybe  Joe's  gone  and 
bought  her  one,  and  that's  why  she  seems  so 
satisfied  and  lazy  all  the  while.  Joe's  got 
money.  He  makes  his  two  a  day,  and  he  says 
he  would  do  anything  for  Emma.  I  hope  if 
he  buys  her  an  essay,  I  hope  he'll  just  get  her 
a  good  one  with  a  whole  lot  of  high-falutin' 
words  and  gestures  like  a  windmill  put  in.  I 
would  feel  so  proud."  Mrs.  S.  enjoyed  in  an- 
ticipation the  efforts  of  her  firstborn. 

But  Mrs.  Simkins  could  stay  but  a  moment 
in  spite  of  Mrs.  Jacobs'  urging. 

"  No,  thank  you,  I've  got  to  get  back  and 
get  the  dinner  on  the  stove,"  she  had  to  insist 
at  last.     "  I'll  be   glad  when  vacation   comes 


"  WORRY  "  55 

and  the  girls  are  out  of  school.  Maybe  Myra 
can  help  you  some  then  if  you  need  anybody. 
But  as  for  Emma  —  I  don't  know  —  like  as 
not  she'll  have  another  essay  on  hand,  or  a 
po'm."  There  was  just  a  shade  of  insinuation 
in  the  remark,  and  both  women  laughed  merrily 
as  they  parted. 

"  I  want  to  be  there  when  Era  begins  that 
po'm,"  Mrs.  Jacobs  called  from  her  porch. 

Mrs.  Simkins,  already  at  the  gate,  turned 
for  a  moment  and  gaily  waved  the  borrowed 
pattern  toward  the  porch  in  an  understanding 
farewell. 

Mrs.  Simkins  hurried  up  the  street  to  her 
plain  little  house,  paintless  well-nigh,  and  glanc- 
ing at  the  clock,  recently  regulated  by  Joe's 
skillful  hand  and  therefore  correct,  found  she 
still  had  plenty  of  time  to  get  dinner  before 
the  girls  came  home  to  sit  down  to  their  noon- 
day fare.  So  she  thought,  as  the  sun  was  such 
a  blaze  of  heat,  she  would  try  to  get  the  lawn 
dress  goods  out  on  the  grass  to  bleach.  Taking 
just  a  bit  of  soft  soap  from  her  crock  full  in 
the  cellar,  she  made  a  heavy  white  suds  in  a 
small  quantity  of  hot  water,  and  this  suds  she 
turned  into  her  tub  already  half  filled  with  warm 
water,  mixing  thoroughly  the  while.  Then  lay- 
ing the  lawn  in  folds  to  fit  the  tub  and  placing 
it  in  the  soapy  water,  she  left  it  there  to  soak. 

"  I  guess  I'll  just  let  it  soak  all  night,"  she 


56  "  WORRY  " 

finally  decided.  "  Tomorrow's  sure  to  be  a 
proper  twin  to  today,  and  I  can  just  take  it 
over  to  Mrs.  Brown's  after  I  rinse  it  good  and 
let  her  bleach  it  on  her  grass  plat.  It's  big- 
ger'n  our'n  anyway  and  grassier,  too.  Em 
need  never  know  but  what  I  bought  it  just  that 
way  at  the  store.  I  know,  after  I  get  it  pressed, 
she  nor  nobody  else  could  ever  tell  but  what  it 
lay  just  that  way  on  the  counter.  But  Em 
don't  take  no  interest  in  it  somehow.  It's  been 
in  my  bureau  drawer  ever  since  that  night." 

And  so  Mr.  Simkins  after  laying  a  molding- 
board  over  the  washtub,  and  attempting  to  dis- 
guise the  situation  slightly  by  placing  a  couple 
of  pie  tins,  a  flour  sifter  and  a  rolling-pin  atop, 
went  complacently  to  the  work  of  paring  po- 
tatoes and  in  other  ways  getting  things  in  order 
for  dinner. 

"  I'm  glad  today 's  only  Wednesday,"  she 
said  to  herself;  then,  with  a  woman's  remark- 
able quickness  in  figuring  things  out,  "  tomor- 
row 's  Thursday,"  she  calculated.  "  The  girls'll 
be  gone  all  day  if  I  put  them  up  a  nice  lunch 
and  tell  them  it's  too  awful  hot  to  come  home 
right  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  That'll  fix  it  just 
right.  Mrs.  Brown'll  help  me  bleach  and  press 
that  dress  goods  if  I  let  her  think  she's  doin' 
it  all.  Even  My'll  never  know  there  was  any 
need  of  a  bit  of  soap  and  a  May  day  sun. 
Em's  so  squeamish.     No  tellin'  what  she  would 


"  WORRY  "  57 

do  if  she  suspected.  I'll  just  ask  Mrs.  B.'s  ad- 
vice about  the  whole  business,  and  I  shouldn't  be 
at  all  surprised  if  she  sailed  right  in  and  did 
the  whole  thing  for  me  offhand.  Mrs.  B.'s  a 
splendid  one  at  ironin',"  Mrs.  Simkins  added 
meditatively,  "  and  I'm  certainly  not  goin'  to 
hang  back  when  it  comes  to  lettin'  her  show 
what  she  can  do.  My  oh  me!  That  woman 
does  like  to  have  things  her  own  way ! " 

Dinner  was  ready  when  the  girls  came  home, 
so  the  three  of  them  sat  down  immediately. 

"  Your  pa  took  his  lunch  with  him  this  morn- 
in',"  explained  Mrs.  S.,  as  they  took  their 
places.  "  It's  pretty  far  for  him  to  walk  such 
warm  days.  He  has  to  walk  so  fast,  you  know. 
And  tomorrow  I'm  goin'  to  put  up  your  lunch, 
too.     It's  blazin'  hot  to  hurry  around  so  much." 

Myra  as  usual  helped  to  clear  off  the  table, 
though  the  dishwashing  was  left  for  Mrs.  Sim- 
kins'  afternoon  leisure,  as  a  sort  of  diversion, 
presumably.  But  then  Myra  really  had  no  time 
unless  there  happened  to  be  no  afternoon  ses- 
sion. 

"  Are  you  going  to  make  pies,  Mother? " 
inquired  Myra,  scenting  a  little  extra  for 
Thursday's  luncheon  basket. 

Mrs.  Simkins  skimmed  lightly  over  the  inter- 
rogation with  a  request. 

"  Come,  My,"  she  asked  of  her  younger 
daughter,  offsetting  curiosity,  u  come,  I  want 


58  "  WORRY  " 

you  to  help  me  hold  up  this  pattern  I  borrowed 
off  of  Mrs.  Jacobs  so  as  I  can  get  some  idea 
as  to  how  it's  goin'  to  fit  Em." 

"  Has  Mrs.  Jacobs  got  her  cambric  finished?  " 
asked  Emma  absently,  as  she  dreamily  arose 
to  be  measured. 

"  She's  got  it  cut  out,"  stuttered  Mrs.  S., 
six  pins  in  her  mouth  somewhat  interfering  with 
her  enunciation. 

Emma,  doubtless,  was  wondering  if  the  cam- 
bric would  be  worn  at  her  party.  Her  mind 
seemed  to  be  anywhere  rather  than  upon  what 
her  sister  and  her  mother  were  doing  with  Mrs. 
Jacob's  paper  pattern. 

"  Em's  so  lifeless  about  some  things  it's  enough 
to  worry  a  person,"  said  Mrs.  Simkins  to  her 
spouse  that  night  as  they  were  about  to  retire. 

"  That  essay's  on  her  mind,  Ma,  depend  upon 
it,"  and  Mr.  Simkins  dismissed  any  hint  of 
anxiety  whatsoever  from  his  tired  brain  and 
slept. 


CHAPTER  VI 
DRESSMAKING :     ACTUALITIES 

Bright  and  early  the  next  morning  Mrs.  Sim- 
kins  got  her  husband  and  her  daughters  off, 
one  across  field  paths  to  his  work  at  the  only 
factory  near  Bleakdale,  the  others  on  the  car 
to  school,  all  with  lunches  nicely  put  up  and 
as  inviting  in  variety  of  viands  as  her  none  too 
plentifully  supplied  purse  would  permit. 

They  had  all  awakened  more  than  usually 
near  the  sun's  time  for  appearing  above  the  hori- 
zon that  morning,  the  birds'  joyous  welcoming 
of  the  four  o'clock  dawn,  warm  and  brilliant, 
having  been  a  little  more  clamorous  than  pre- 
viously that  season,  so  much  so  that  no  one  of 
the  family  could  think  of  sleeping,  though 
Emma  would  perhaps  have  lain  dozing,  but  half 
awake,  indefinitely  —  for  her  slumber  had  been 
somewhat  troubled  and  broken  in  a  sub-con- 
scious going  over  of  plans  for  the  morrow  — 
had  not  her  sister,  quite  beside  her  usual  self, 
given  her  several  vigorous  tugs  by  her  feet,  not 
at   all   in  her   accustomed   character,   infected, 

doubtless,  by  the  spirit  of  the  early  morning 
59 


60  "  WORRY  " 

electrifying  all  under  its  influence  into  new  en- 
ergy and  unwonted  height  of  spirit. 

"  Come  on,  Em !  Out  you  go,  lazy !  "  My 
had  called,  pulling  mischievously  with  quite  a 
show  of  strength  the  while;  and  Em  surprised 
and  not  a  little  angry  at  first  at  her  sister's 
outrof-the-ordinary  behavior,  had  reluctantly 
allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  to  forego  her 
little  cat-nap  and  to  be  talked  into  attiring  her- 
self for  the  enjoyment  of  the  rare  early  morn- 
ing hours  for  breakfast  and  for  school. 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  to  thank  you  after  all, 
My,  for  getting  me  out  so  early,"  Emma  had 
admitted  with  some  hesitancy  and  just  a  shade 
of  inexplicable  bashfulness  as  they  sat  at  break- 
fast. 

Emma  disliked  ever  to  admit  herself  to  be  in 
the  wrong :  her  attitude  toward  her  sister,  gentle 
and  unselfish  as  she  in  her  heart  knew  her  sister 
to  be,  had  always  been  one  of  conscious  superi- 
ority with  a  sort  of  under-current  idea  that  she 
was  there  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  be  good- 
naturedly  imposed  upon  and  conveniently  run 
over  (figuratively)  whenever  advantageous  to 
do  so. 

"  I'm  so  put  out  with  myself  (glances  of 
incredulity  had  flashed  amusedly  among  the 
other  members  of  the  family),  you  see,  I  didn't 
sleep  well  all  night  kind  of  half-dreaming  about 
it ;  and  here,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  My,  I'd  never 


"  WORRY  "  ei 

have  been  up  to  do  it,  I  was  that  drowsy  and 
done  out." 

"And  now  since  you  are  up,"  Mrs.  Simkins 
had  offered,  handing  meanwhile  a  second  cup 
of  coffee  to  the  husband  and  father,  "  let's  hear 
why  you  were  so  very  particular  about  gettin' 
up  so  early." 

"  Why,  I've  got  to  get  off  for  school  on  the 
first  car  down  this  morning.  It's  a  good  thing 
I  got  my  breakfast  in  time  and  my  lunch  put 
up." 

M  My  word !  That  essay !  "  Mrs.  S.  had  sym- 
pathizingly  remarked,  instinctively  picturing 
to  herself  an  early  morning  rehearsal  with 
teachers,  taking  everything  —  reasons  included 
—  for  granted.  "  I  told  Mrs.  Jacobs  yester- 
day when  I  was  down  there  to  borrow  that  pat- 
tern that  I  wished  Joe  would  just  go  and  buy 
you  a  nice  'propriate  essay  with  gesture  direc- 
tions; then  you  wouldn't  have  to  fuss  around 
so  and  worry  nights  and  everything.  They 
didn't  have  graduatin'  essays  in  my  day;  but 
I've  heard  enough  since  about  buyin'  'em.  I 
just  want  you  to  ask  Joe  to  go  and  get  you 
one."  Mrs.  Simkins  had  given  her  opinion 
with  finality. 

"  Maybe  that's  why  Joe  wanted  me  to  take 
the  early  car.  He  didn't  just  explain  what  he 
was  going  to  do." 

"  Oh!     It's  Joe,  is  it?     I  thought  it  was  one 


62  «  WORRY  " 

of  them  professor  teachers  wanted  to  see  you. 
Well,  you  just  tell  Joe  you  can't  be  late  for 
school.  And  you  almost  through  all  of  it ! " 
Mrs.  Simkins  had  commanded  with  warmth,  and 
then :  "  My's  to  go  on  the  early  car,  too. 
When  young  folks  go  spookin'  off  at  daybreak 
it's  just  as  well  to  have  some  one  else  along 
snoopin'." 

Thus  it  was  that  even  before  six  o'clock  Mrs. 
Simkins  found  herself  absolute  master  of  her 
entire  house  and  of  her  time  until  nightfall. 
Though  the  girls  had  never  before  taken  the 
early  car  for  the  city,  rarely,  in  fact,  being 
up  in  time  to  do  so  even  had  they  cared  to, 
the  unusualness  of  the  hour  at  which  they  had 
set  out  did  not  seem  to  occupy  her  thoughts  to 
any  marked  extent.  Her  knowledge  of  the  city 
and  its  complexities  was  not  full  enough  to  en- 
able her  to  picture  what  might  possibly  happen 
to  two  young  girls  out  in  the  hustle  and  bustle 
and  hurry  of  the  city  streets  even  in  the  "  East 
End,"  out  in  the  rush  of  the  early  morning  hours 
when  so  many  rush  hither  and  thither  to  their 
various  employments. 

Could  she  have  known  that  Emma  had,  after 
all  her  admonition  and  injunction,  appeared  in 
her  classroom  fully  an  hour  late ;  could  she  have 
known  that  Myra,  ordered  to  the  platform  by 
an  implacable  instructor,  judgment-day  venge- 
ance in  his  eye,  had  suffered  the  humiliation 


"  WORRY  "  63 

of  a  few  terse  remarks  and  some  heartfelt  advice, 
eminently  suited  to  impress  upon  her  the  fla- 
grant enormity  of  living  a  lifetime  with  that 
cornerstone  of  character,  punctuality,  cracked 
and  shamefully  chipped;  could  she  have  known 
that  Joe  Kuntz  had  been  for  the  first  time  in 
his  factory  experience  "  docked  "  a  round  fifty 
cents'  worth  of  silver  for  tardiness  equivalent 
in  value  to  the  factory  management;  could  she 
have  known  all  this,  Mrs.  Simkins  might  have 
dropped  bodily  with  her  whole  soul  and  all 
her  existences  in  the  spirit  into  her  old  habit 
"  worry." 

But  she  knew  naught  of  it  all,  and  so  serenely 
and  contentedly  she  manipulated  the  lawn  in 
an  effort  to  rid  it  of  as  much  soapy  water  (by 
this  time  tinged  a  shade  dark)  as  she  could 
wring  irom  it  without  endangering  the  evenness 
of  the  weave,  in  order  that  she  might  lay  it  aside 
and  refill  the  tub  with  warm  rinsing  water. 

Mrs.  Simkins  was  not  an  adept  at  reasoning; 
she  would  have  been  quite  at  sea  even  as  to  a 
hazy  meaning  of  the  term  had  any  one  men- 
tioned logic  in  her  hearing.  So  she  was  quite 
incapable  of  drawing  a  little  lesson  from  the 
peculiar  set  of  circumstances  surrounding  the 
movements  of  her  daughters  early  that  morn- 
ing. Later,  when  but  a  few  weeks  had  passed, 
she  knew  all  just  as  it  had  happened,  and  in 
the  telling  she  was  the  one  of  all  that  merry 


64.  "  WORRY  " 

crowd  of  listeners  who  laughed  loudest  ana  long- 
est ;  yet  could  she  have  known  aught  of  it  before- 
hand "  worry  n  would  have  plucked  and  pulled, 
would  have  nagged  and  plagued  her  despite  her 
resolution,  into  such  a  state  that  she  might 
have  suspected  herself,  and  with  reason,  guilty 
of  the  "  unforgivable  sin,"  for  who  is  there  to 
say  persistent  worry  is  not  just  that,  narrow- 
ing, unnerving,  demoralizing  as  it  certainly  is. 

But  Joe  and  Emma  were  far  too  interested 
to  disclose  what  they  knew,  and  Myra  —  Myra 
was  discreet;  more  than  that,  she  was  thor- 
oughly loyal  in  whatever  she  was  bound  by  her 
true  nature  to  consider  solely  the  concern  of 
others. 

So  Mrs.  Simkins,  ignorant  of  all  and  worry- 
less,  continued  in  peace  with  the  renovation 
of  the  goods  for  her  daughter's  dress,  lifting 
it  and  sousing  it  again  and  again  in  the  warm 
rinse  water  till  every  trace  of  soap,  even  the 
slight  odor,  had  been  completely  removed. 

By  eight  o'clock  she  knew  that  the  Brown 
household  would  have  quieted  down;  the  hus- 
band having  long  since  gone  off  to  his  work  at 
the  factory,  the  same  one  in  which  Mr.  Sim- 
kins  himself  earned  the  support  —  or  such  as 
went  under  that  name  —  of  his  family ;  the 
children,  a  couple  of  boys  and  a  girl,  having 
somewhat  later  passed  down  the  street  on  the 
way  to  the  village  school  before  the  door  of 


"  WORRY  "  65 

which  they-  were  due,  the  girl  included,  for  a 
game  of  marbles;  and  the  baby  —  well  she 
would  make  it  her  part  of  the  work,  thought 
Mrs.  Simkins,  to  take  care  of  baby  while  Mrs. 
Brown  demonstrated  what  she  could  do  along 
the  line  of  making  bargain  material  look  just 
like  new.  To  be  sure,  though  she  had  thought 
about  the  matter  several  days,  she  had  not  yet 
got  around  to  inquire  whether  Mrs.  Brown  would 
be  otherwise  engaged  and  unable  to  assist  her, 
or  whether  she  would  be  quite  free,  with  plenty 
of  time  on  her  hands.  Yet  knowing  Mrs. 
Brown  as  she  did,  thoroughly,  with  the  viscid 
intimacy  of  small  places,  she  felt  —  was  sure 
in  truth  —  that  Mrs.  B.  would  rush  gladly  with 
a  helping  hand  (or  two  of  them)  to  offer  what- 
ever assistance  lay  within  her  power  to  grant. 

So  having  rinsed  to  a  sufficiency  the  length 
of  lawn,  Mrs.  Simkins  made  her  way  up  the 
street  to  the  house  and  home  of  that  neighbor 
among  neighbors,  the  one  with  the  spirit  of 
accommodation  and  good  will  writ  in  strong 
though  smiling  lines  over  her  entire  countenance, 
registered  indelibly  in  the  minds  of  the  many 
to  whom  she  had  been  a  friend  in  need. 

Mrs.  Brown  was  out  on  the  only  porch,  which 
by  the  way  happened  to  be  a  front  one,  bathing 
the  baby  when  through  the  splashing  of  the 
water  in  the  tub  —  for  the  child  was  a  three- 
year-old  and  vigorous,  not  to  say  unmanageable 


66  "  WORRY  " 

—  she  chanced  to  spy  Mrs.  Simkins  through  the 
leafy  barrier  of  the  half-grown  maples  along 
the  street,  evidently  making  her  way  to  no  other 
house  than  hers. 

As  Mrs.  Simkins  turned  in  at  the  gate,  the 
bunch  of  still  dripping  white  goods  which  she 
was  holding  carefully  away  from  her  caught 
Mrs.  Brown's  eye.  She  at  once,  in  that  mas- 
terly though  rather  disagreeable  fashion  some 
have,  settled  almost  intuitively  on  the  reason 
for  the  early  morning  visit  (though  such  were 
not  extraordinary  in  Bleakdale)  and  immedi- 
ately, as  was  her  custom,  she  voiced  what  was 
in  her  mind  without  query  or  further  hesita- 
tion. 

"  You've  brought  over  some  goods  to  bleach 
on  my  grass,"  she  stated,  disdaining,  at  least 
neglecting,  to  question  about  the  matter. 
"  Em's  dress,  I'll  bet  a  dollar.  Now  you  jest 
set  right  down  and  watch  baby  a  minute,  and 
I'll  spread  the  goods  out  on  the  best  bit  of 
grass  there  is  in  the  whole  plat." 

Unhesitatingly  she  reached  for  the  cloth  as 
Mrs.  Simkins  dropped  on  the  step  near  the 
tub  of  water.  Mrs.  S.  knew  Mrs.  B.  so  well. 
They  had  been  the  greatest  of  friends,  thick  as 
mud  for  over  two  years. 

"  All  right.  Go  on.  You  know  more  about 
your  tormented  old  grass  than  I  do,  I  guess," 
she  agreed  and  admitted  all  in  a  breath,  and 


"  WORRY  »  67 

then  as  though  to  make  herself  equally  useful, 
"  I'll  dry  baby  and  dress  her,"  she  volunteered. 

The  goods  was  going  to  take  up  a  stretch  of 
grass  longer  than  Mrs.  Brown  had  planned  to 
have  it ;  so  she  had  to  relay  it,  turning  one  end 
back  upon  itself  in  order  to  have  enough  grass 
right  in  the  hottest  place  without  a  bit  of 
shade. 

"  Ain't  you  afraid  that  turned  over  place'U 
look  darker  than  the  rest? "  came  from  the 
porch. 

Without  parley  came  back  peremptorily, 
"  You  jest  tend  to  that  baby.  I'm  goin'  to 
make  this  cloth  do  jest  what  I  want  it  to.  I'll 
turn  and  change  that  place,  and  sprinkle  the 
whole  thing  again  as  soon  as  it  dries.  By  one 
it'll  be  through.  And  you're  goin'  to  stay  to 
dinner.     Get  that?  " 

"  Suits  me."  Mrs.  S.  fell  in  with  the  sug- 
gestion so  domineeringly  expressed.  "  The  folks 
all  took  their  lunches  anyway,  and  I'm  all 
alone." 

"  'Twouldn't  make  no  difference.  You'd  have 
to  stay  anyway  to  watch  me  press  this  cloth  — 
to  see  if  I  know  how  to  do  it  right,"  Mrs.  B. 
added  with  mild  sarcasm. 

"  You  hain't  goin'  to  press  it,"  Mrs.  S.  spe- 
ciously objected.  "  I  didn't  come  over  here  to 
get  your  help ;  I  come  over  for  your  grass,"  she 
offered  tactfully  and  drawingly. 


68  "  WORRY  " 

"What  do  I  care?  I  guess  I  jest  enjoy 
pressin'  nice,  soft,  white  goods  like  this  here'll 
be  when  the  sun  and  me  gets  through.  I'm  goin' 
to  press  it  anyway,"  and  she  set  her  foot  down 
hard,  as  though  that  was  all  there  was  to  be 
said  about  it. 

"  Can't  I  watch,  even?  "  playfully  inquired 
Mrs.  S. 

"  No,"  with  finality.  "  You're  to  give  the 
baby  her  nap.  It  won't  take  me  no  time  at 
all  soon's  we  eat."  Then  she  added,  H  And  no 
feelings,  Mrs.  S. ;  but  I'm  a-thinkin'  I  can  press 
better'n  you  anyway." 

"  Oh,  no  feelings,"  agreed  Mrs.  S.  smiling, 
"  and  I'll  see  that  the  baby  goes  to  sleep  nice 
and  quiet,  the  little  dear.  But  there's  one  thing, 
Kate  Brown,"  she  went  on  seriously,  "  neither 
Emma  nor  Myra  is  to  know  anything  about 
this  bleachin'  and  pressin'.  I  ain't  told  them 
the  goods  was  soiled  and  I'm  not  goin'  to  — 
so  there !  "  and  her  eyes  snapped. 

Telling  tales  out  of  school,  however,  was  not 
one  of  Mrs.  Brown's  failings. 

Dinner  over,  Mrs.  Brown  went  out  to  see  if 
the  goods  were  ready  for  pressing,  and  Mrs. 
Simkins  retired  to  her  friend's  bedroom  with 
the  baby.  There  the  child,  in  consideration  of 
being  allowed  to  pull  Mrs.  Simkins'  front  hair 
back  and  forth  rhythmically  while  Mrs.  S. 
hummed  raspingly,  went  soundly  to  sleep  in  less 


"  WORRY  "  69 

than  ten  minutes,  leaving  Mrs.  S.  to  sit  looking 
out  of  the  bedroom  window  at  the  pretty  yard 
and  the  trolley  wires  beyond. 

Before  the  baby  awakened  in  came  Mrs. 
Brown,  tiptoeing. 

"  The  goods  is  did  up  beautiful,"  she  ex- 
ulted. "  Now  you  can  go  right  home  and  get 
that  pattern  —  Milly  Franks  said  you'd  bor- 
rowed it  off  of  Mrs.  Jacobs  —  and  we'll  have 
that  dress  cut  out  and  basted  before  four 
o'clock." 

"  Well,  I've  got  to  be  back  home  by  five 
to  begin  supper,"  bandied  Mrs.  S.,  knowing  well 
that  Mrs.  B.  enjoyed  the  appearance  of  opposi- 
tion, though  not  real  obstinacy. 

"  Hurry  along  with  you.  Stop  your  gab, 
and  you'll  get  there  in  time,  all  right,"  Mrs. 
B.  counseled  with  characteristic  warmth. 

True  to  the  estimation  Mrs.  B.  had  placed 
upon  her  own  abilities  as  a  dressmaker  of  quick- 
ness and  dispatch,  Mrs.  S.  found  herself  just  a 
little  before  five  o'clock  back  in  her  own  home, 
the  lawn  dress  for  Emma's  June  day  party  and 
afterwards  for  her  commencement  already  cut 
out  and  tentatively  basted. 

"  And  it's  goin'  to  be  handsome  when  I  get 
that  pretty  lace  on,"  Mrs.  S.  had  said,  as  Mrs. 
B.  held  the  lightly  thrown  together  garment  up 
to  her  to  get  some  idea  (a  faint  one)  as  to  how 
the  skirt  was  going  to  hang.     "  I  wish  Emma 


70  "  WORRY  " 

wouldn't  wear  it  to  her  party.  That  dimity  of 
hern's  plenty  good,  and  she  could  save  this  for 
her  commencement." 

"  Now  you  know  you  don't  mean  anything  of 
the  kind,"  had  overruled  Mrs.  Brown  with  keener 
reasoning.  "  At  the  party  they'll  see  her  close 
as  can  be,  at  the  graduatin'  all  the  class'U  be 
so  flustered  they  won't  know  what's  goin'  on; 
and  not  five  people  in  the  aujence  will  know  her 
from  Eve  anyway.  I  guess  you  can  freshen  it 
up  some,  can't  you? "  Then  reconsidering, 
"  the  light  is  awful  bright  at  commencement." 

"  I  was  thinkin'  of  buyin'  a  ribbon  sash  if  I 
can  make  to  rake  together  enough  after  the 
party,"  Mrs.  S.  had  confided. 

"  Land  sakes,  Jul  Simkins !  Here  we've  been 
talkin'  party  and  party  as  though  I  knew  all 
about  it ;  and  goodness  me !  this  is  the  first  I've 
heard  of  it,"  had  ejaculated  Mrs.  Brown. 
"  But  I  suspected  enough  to  almost  know,"  she 
had  concluded,  and  then  as  a  sort  of  hearty 
good-by,  as  Mrs.  Simkins  turned  at  the  gate, 
"  of  course,  I'll  be  asked  to  come  over." 

The  girls  came  home  shortly  after  Mrs.  S. 
began  to  peel  the  potatoes  for  supper  and  to 
set  the  table.  Both  were  late,  for  Myra  had 
been  asked  to  remain  to  make  up  a  certain 
lesson,  and  Emma  as  though  with  a  feeling  of 
culpability,  contritely  elected  to  await  Myra's 
release  from  discipline,  so  that  they  both  could 


"  WORRY  "  71 

ride  home  together  on  the  car  and  talk  it  over, 
And  this  they  accordingly  did,  constructing  as 
they  rode  along,  at  a  single  stroke,  a  "  worry  " 
assuager  of  plausibility  for  their  mother's  ears 
and  a  conscience  balm  for  their  own  brains. 

In  addition  Myra  planned  to  divert  her 
mother's  attention  from  the  tardiness  of  their 
homecoming  by  a  judicious  little  bit  of  fault- 
finding; for  she  knew  her  mother  would  spend 
the  following  hour  or  two  trying  to  justify 
herself — so  high  were  her  ideals  of  mother-duty. 

"  There  wasn't  a  bit  of  pie  in  that  lunch," 
she  complained  as  soon  as  she  had  made  her 
way  into  the  kitchen. 

"  I  know  there  wasn't,"  Mrs.  Simkins  agreed 
easily,  quite  out  of  her  customary  way. 

"  Heavens !  "  thought  Myra,  "  is  Mother  get- 
ting emancipated?  " 

"  But  there's  a  lot  of  thread  in  Em's  new 
dress.  Mrs.  Brown  helped  me  with  it  all  and 
that'll  save  you  just  so  much."  Then  she  added 
(whatever  had  got  into  Mother?)  with  quite  a 
show  of  self-satisfaction  and  an  inward  titter: 
"  Don't  think  of  pie,  My,  every  time  you  see 
a  flour  sifter  laid  out.  Don't  you  know  some 
people  use  'em  for  strainers  ?  " 

Myra  went  down  to  the  gate  to  await  her 
father's  return  from  work. 

"  Ma's  gettin'  real  light-headed,"  she  men- 
tally commented. 


CHAPTER  VII 
A  WALK  AND  A  TALK 

After  the  supper  things  had  been  cleared 
away  and  the  dishes  had  been  washed  so  that 
Myra  could  assist,  Mrs.  Simkins  had  Emma  slip 
off  her  dress  and  stand  up  —  and  she  complied, 
though  reluctantly  —  while  the  new  garment 
with  its  preliminary  bastings  could  be  tried 
on  and  altered  a  trifle  here  and  there  as  it 
might  stand  in  the  need  of  a  little  taking  in  or 
a  little  letting  out. 

"  You'll  have  to  hurry  up  about  it,  Ma. 
You  know  Joe's  a-coming  for  me  at  half-past 
seven.  We're  going  over  to  Lottie  Johnson's 
for  a  little  walk."  Emma  was  fidgety  and  im- 
patient and  nervous  still  from  her  peculiar 
experiences  of  the  morning. 

"  Oh,  yes !  And  a  little  talk !  Hold  still  now 
while  I  see  if  this  wants  to  be  taken  up  a  little 
on  the  shoulder  seams.  Seems  it  does,"  she 
voiced  her  decision,  squinting  one  eye  and  in- 
dulging in  a  bit  of  cheap  wit.  "  Now,  My,  the 
pins,"  and  she  filled  one  corner  of  her  mouth. 
But   there  was   another   corner,   happily,    and 

from  this  she  continued  to  give  vent  to  occa- 

72 


"  WORRY  "  73 

sional  directions  to  My  as  she  ripped  bastings 
and  pinned  anew  wherever  the  "  fit "  of  the 
dress  failed  to  coincide  with  her  views  as  to  how 
it  should  look. 

But  as  Mrs.  Simkins  had  said,  Emma  was 
in  point  of  fact  about  Mrs.  Jacobs*  size,  and 
so  the  borrowed  pattern  had  answered  very 
well.  Only  a  few  alterations  were  necessary; 
there  are  always  some. 

"  That's  finished,"  at  last  announced  Mrs. 
Simkins.  "  Now,  Em,  stand  up  on  this  hassock 
and  I'll  card  you." 

"  What's  that,  Ma?  "  Myra  wanted  to  know. 

"  A  body  would  think  we  never  had  a  ■  slim ' 
dress  in  the  house  before  to  hear  you  talk," 
returned  Mrs.  S.  raspingly.  "  Now  you  just 
watch  me.  Your  ma'll  show  you  what  cardvrC 
is.  Get  up  on  the  hassock,  Em,"  she  com- 
manded. 

Emma  obeyed,  glancing  sidelong  at  the  clock. 

"  Hurry  up  with  you,  Ma,"  she  uttered  im- 
patiently.    "  It's  almost  seven-thirty." 

"  Just  you  wait,"  soothingly  urged  Mrs.  S. 
"  We'll  soon  be  done  now,  so  don't  fret.  This 
pattern  says  the  skirt  must  hang  free  just  four 
inches  from  the  floor  all  around  even-like.  Now, 
Myra,  you  cut  me  a  card  just — " 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  you  wanted  to  make 
the  skirt  straight  around  the  bottom  ?  "  Myra 
was  a  little  disgusted,  the  more  since  she  had 


7*  "  WORRY  " 

not  yet  figured  out  what  her  mother  had  meant 
her  to  understand  about  the  flour  sifter  a  while 
before. 

"  I'm  going  out  on  the  porch  with  Pa,"  she 
said  without  offering  to  help  hang  the  skirt, 
and  somewhat  offended. 

But  the  skirt  got  hung,  nevertheless;  for 
Myra,  though  an  interesting  and  useful  mite 
of  humanity,  was  far  from  being  indispensa- 
ble. 

Mrs.  S.  fixed  everything  about  the  dress  just 
as  she  wanted  it,  or  thought  she  wanted  it ;  then 
Emma  got  down  off  the  hassock,  and  again 
glancing  at  the  clock,  found  it  was  still  not 
quite  time  for  Joe  to  come  for  her.  She  lifted 
the  soft  white  from  the  chair  across  the  back 
of  which  her  mother  had  thrown  it  for  the  mo- 
ment, and  with  more  interest  than  she  had  at 
any  time  taken  in  it  she  asked: 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  going  to  be  pretty, 
Mother?  " —  she  always  used  "  Mother  "  when 
talking  seriously,  for  it  seemed  more  dignified, 
more  befitting  one  about  to  be  graduated,  on 
the  whole,  less  abrupt  to  her  than  just  curt 
"  Ma  " —  and  then  almost  with  ardor,  "  I  do 
want  it  to  look  soft  and  white  and  beautiful  and 
—  and  pure,"  she  added  so  meaningly  that  her 
mother  looked  up  quickly  from  where  she  sat 
trying  to  wheedle  an  unmanageable  thread  into 


"  WORRY  "  75 

the  eye  of  a  needle  where  it  doubtless  knew  all 
the  time  it  by  rights  ought  to  be. 

"  Here,  Em,"  she  cut  short  all  sentiment 
without  mercy ;  "  here,  you  thread  this  needle 
for  your  Ma,  and  she'll  guarantee  you'll  look 
like  the  virgin  queen." 

Joe  came  shortly  after  and  waited  a  while 
on  the  step  to  talk  with  Pa  Simkins  and  My 
until  Emma  had  got  into  her  old  dress  again. 
Then  leaving  Mrs.  Simkins  sewing  in  the  altera- 
tions on  the  new  one  and  planning  as  to  how 
the  lace  was  going  to  be  put  on,  the  two  passed 
through  Pa's  tobacco  whiffs  on  down  the  path. 

u  Ma  don't  seem  to  worry  so  much  as  she 
used  to,"  Emma  wonderingly  remarked  to  Joe 
as  he  took  her  arm  and  they  turned  through  the 
gateway  to  the  path  alongside  the  road. 

"  It  ain't  because  your  pa  has  given  up  smok- 
ing, I  know  that  much,"  Joe  laughed  lightly. 

"  I  think  it  is  because  Pa's  working  again 
for  one  thing,  and  then  the  winter  was  trying 
for  all  of  us,  Ma  most  of  all,"  Emma  reasoned 
and  then  meditatively  continued :  "  Ma  always 
did  worry  a  great  deal.  Things  didn't  always 
go  to  suit  her,  and  I  guess  in  a  way  it's  been 
a  case  of  ideals  with  her.  Lately,  you  know, 
things  seem  to  be  going  her  way  and  that  has 
brightened  her."  After  a  little,  as  Joe  seemed 
to  cherish  silence,  Emma  observed  pedantically 


76  "  WORRY  " 

with  the  serious  turn  eighteen  often  affects: 
"  There's  nothing  like  a  little  encouragement 
to  cheer  a  person  up." 

"  I  guess  I  cheered  her  up  some  that  night 
I  kissed  her."  Joe  smiled,  remembering  that 
night  of  nights  and  its  abandon. 

"  I  admit  you're  both  cheery  and  cheering," 
Emma  agreed  appreciatively,  "  but  I'm  not  in 
the  least  down-hearted  nor  —  see  the  stars, 
Joe,"  she  changed  the  subject  abruptly;  maybe 
she  knew  Joe's  sympathetic  turns  — "  that  big 
one  over  there's  Mars.  We've  been  looking  over 
our  astronomy  a  little  at  the  '  High.'  It  makes 
a  body  just  want  to  sail  up  in  a  cloud  boat  and 
float  from  star  to  star  —  from  star  to  star  the 
weepy  clouds  among.  The  big  glowing  ones, 
Joe,  I  mean.  Those  little  points  of  brilliant, 
flashy  light,  they're  suns.  Couldn't  sit  long 
there  — " 

"I've  been  thinking  lately,  myself,  I'd  like 
to  live  at  s  Mar's,'  "  interrupted  Joe  artfully, 
with  borrowed  pronunciation,  "  and  as  for  sons, 
bright  ones  — " 

But  Emma  headed  him  off,  and  for  the  rest 
of  the  walk  wouldn't  let  him  utter  a  single  word, 
telling  him  he  must  not  be  too  liberal  with  his 
castles  in  Spain,  nor  yet  depend  quite  on 
"  Mar's." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
MAKING  A  PARTY  SUIT  THE  SEASON 

Time  was  at  last  fast  on  its  way  toward  the 
first  of  June.  Preparations  for  the  June  day 
party  were  already  completed  or  nearly  so,  for 
preparations  never  are,  or  rarely  are,  fully 
prepared,  there  always  being  a  little  to  occupy 
the  final  moment  even  of  such  hosts  and  host- 
esses as  were  to  be  met  with,  though  at  long 
intervals,  in  Bleakdale,  far  from  elaborate 
though  such  preparations  were. 

The  dress  which  had  caused  Mrs.  Simkins  so 
much  concern  in  planning  the  "  ways  and 
means  "  of  its  purchase,  in  its  selection,  and  in 
its  making,  now  lay  in  a  long  pasteboard  box 
Joe  had  got  for  it  down  town,  finished  and  satis- 
factory to  all  in  every  detail.  It  was  light, 
almost  filmy  —  for  it  had  been  starched  but  a 
trifle  —  beautiful  with  its  little  insertions  and 
edgings  of  pretty  though  cheap  lace;  at  least, 
so  it  looked  to  the  Simkins  family,  even  to 
Mr.  Simkins  himself,  from  whose  hand  Myra 
adroitly   removed  the   cigar  before   she  would 

permit  him  to  enter  its  almost  sacred  presence. 

77 


78  "  WORRY  " 

Mrs.  Jacobs  had  been  asked  to  come  up  and 
admire  the  product  of  her  paper  pattern,  and 
Mr.  Jacobs  tagged  along,  though  he  had  not 
been  to  the  Simkins  house  since  the  accident  of 
weeks  ago.  He  was  not  so  active  as  his  wife, 
who  was  said  to  be  some  years  younger. 

Mrs.  Brown,  too,  popped  in  breezily  about 
noon  of  Decoration  Day  on  her  way  home  from 
the  exercises  near  the  "  East  End  "  high  school 
building,  for  Bleakdale,  dormant  little  village, 
was  too  dead  itself  to  plan  to  remember  the 
nation's  dead. 

"  It  is  a  beauty.  I  knew  it  would  be  when 
I  helped  your  ma  —  cut  it  out."  Mrs.  Brown 
remembered  in  time  that  half-truths  are  in  some 
instances  the  very  blessings  of  the  gods.  "  But, 
Em,"  she  went  on  obstinately,  "  dotted  mull 
would  ha'  looked  scrumptious.  You're  a  wee 
bit  scrawny  anyway,  and  the  dots  would  ha' 
filled  you  out  kind  a'  like  without  spoilin'  the 
style." 

What  pleased  Mrs.  Simkins  most  of  all  was 
that  Emma  herself  really  and  truly  seemed  to 
think  the  dress  almost  too  pretty  to  wear.  She 
was  delighted  with  it.  Whether  because  of 
this  or  for  some  deeper  reason,  all  the  old  taci- 
turnity, the  old  lack  of  interest  and  of  appre- 
ciation seemed  to  have  left  her,  and  she  be- 
came a  happy,  sweetly  satisfied  young  woman. 
Thoughts  of  how  she  was  to  look  when  attired 


"  WORRY  "  79 

in  her  new  gown  were  evidently  flashing  through 
her  imagination. 

"  Oh!  I'll  just  make  the  loveliest  little—" 
she  unconsciously  uttered,  finishing  with  a 
blush  as  her  mother  interposed  with  forceful 
slang : 

"  Come,  Em !  Don't  go  and  get  stuck  on 
yourself.  There'll  be  plenty  to  call  you  lovely 
if  you  give  'em  a  chance.  Don't  begin  the  pro- 
cession yourself,  else  maybe  you  won't  hear 
very  many  footfalls  a-pad-paddin'  along  be- 
hind." 

"  There'll  be  Joe,  anyway,  no  matter  what  I 
do  or  say,"  answered  Emma  loyally,  a  little 
nettled  to  think  her  mother  had  caught  her  in- 
advertently voiced  self-adulation. 

"  Humph !  Joe !  "  commented  Mrs.  S.  with 
mild  contempt,  as  though  Joe,  after  all,  were 
hardly  worth  counting  as  one  to  be  depended 
on.  "  I  didn't  see  him  put  in  an  appearance 
last  night." 

"  Because  I  told  him  not  to  come.  We  were 
going  to  be  so  busy." 

"  We  busy ! "  sniffed  Mrs.  S.  Then  after  a 
moment,  latent  affection  upwelling,  "  There, 
there,  Em,  my  dear,  I  know  you've  had  more 
on  your  hands  than  you  could  attend  to. 
Essays  must  be  awful  tryin'  things.  If  you'd 
only  took  my  advice  it  would  have  saved  you 
that  much  worry." 


80  «  WORRY  " 

But  the  dress  was  made,  anyway,  and  pre- 
sumably the  essay  likewise  was  finished,  for 
Emma's  spirits  had  certainly  been  on  the  rise; 
although  to  be  sure  there  was  still  a  full  week 
after  the  party  in  which  to  prepare,  since  com- 
mencement was  not  until  the  eighth. 

It  being  a  holiday,  Joe  came  up  in  the  after- 
noon rather  late,  and  the  two  walked  out  to- 
gether across  the  fields  in  a  sort  of  romantic 
ramble  toward  a  brook  and  the  cooling  shade  of 
a  group  of  trees  near  by,  back,  far  back,  from 
the  straight  lines  of  houses  on  each  side  of  the 
dusty  Bleakdale  turnpike,  and  from  the  clash- 
clashing  and  the  rumble  of  the  trolley  cars  on 
their  way  back  and  forth,  to  and  from  the  city. 

It  was  dark  when  they  returned,  and  Mrs.  S. 
with  maybe  a  slight  return  attack  of  her  old 
trouble,  was  down  at  the  gate,  not  looking  for 
them,  just  standing  there  as  though  there  was 
no  place  in  the  whole  world  like  a  gate  post  on 
which  to  lean  one's  head  in  quiet  and  profitable 
meditation.  She  asked  Joe  in  to  supper;  but 
he  excused  himself,  saying  he  was  in  a  hurry. 
As  he  turned  to  continue  on  his  way  down  the 
street,  she  heard  him  say,  as  though  casually, 
to  Emma  that  he  would  have  everything  ar- 
ranged. Woman  like  —  and  man  like,  too  — 
she  wondered  what. 

Verbal  invitations  for  the  evening  of  June 
first    had    several    days    since    been    given    to 


"  WORRY  "  81 

Emma's  classmates,  to  the  Jacobs,  the  Browns, 
the  three  or  four  families  living  close  by,  and 
to  two  or  three  a  ways  down  the  car  line.  Mrs. 
Simkins  had  made  a  special  request  that  Mrs. 
Jones,  the  clerk  who  had  been  so  kind  to  her 
in  helping  her  select  the  lawn  dress  goods,  be 
asked  to  come,  and  Joe  had  managed  it  so  that 
a  few  of  his  friends  would  be  present.  All  that 
there  remained- to  do  was  to  prepare  the  refresh- 
ments for  the  guests,  to  make  a  few  final  moves 
toward  putting  the  house  in  order,  and  to  go 
out  and  find  some  flowers  for  decorating.  As 
there  was  plenty  of  time  for  all  of  this  on  the 
morrow,  the  Simkins  family  retired  as  usual 
shortly  after  the  clock  struck  nine. 

The  hour  of  awakening  the  morning  of  the 
party  was  just  about  the  same  as  that  some 
mornings  previously  when  departure  on  the 
first  car  down  toward  the  city  seemed  a  vital 
feature  of  the  day.  This  morning,  too,  the 
birds  kept  up  an  endless  chattering,  in  part  a 
joyous  heralding  of  the  dawn,  and  then  in  its 
persistent  prolongation  doubtless,  little  love 
messages  sung  operatically  from  mate  to  mate 
or  else  between  certain  of  the  feathered  chorus 
intending  soon  to  perfect  as  yet  only  whispered 
interesting  plans  they  had  in  mind  for  the 
future. 

The  daybreak  symphony  served  in  every  way 
as  an  alarm  to  be  heeded  or  to  be  disregarded 


82  "  WORRY  " 

as  each  of  the  family  chose.  They  did  not  al- 
ways pay  attention  to  the  very  early  call.  This 
morning  to  be  filled  so  full  of  pleasant  tasks  — 
for  the  Simkins  once  having  made  up  their 
minds  to  the  money  side  of  the  affair  hospitably 
threw  themselves  whole-souled  into  anything  and 
everything  required  of  them  to  make  it  a  suc- 
cess —  all,  even  Emma,  paid  immediate  and 
good-natured  compliance  to  the  harmonious 
summons  of  the  birds. 

There  was  much  to  do  in  the  kitchen  in  way 
of  preparation,  and  Mrs.  Simkins  wanted  to 
get  at  it  early  so  that  the  house  might  be  put  in 
as  spick  and  span  order  as  the  somewhat  worn 
condition  of  the  house  furnishings  would  admit. 

"  Pa  might  have  had  that  rocker  he  broke 
last  winter  fixed  up,"  Mrs.  S.  had  said  to  Emma 
just  the  day  before.  "  We  need  another  one 
to  put  on  the  lawn  out  by  the  porch,  but  your 
pa  says  he's  had  enough  of  the  old  thing. 
Wouldn't  have  it  fixed  if  he  had  a  lot  on  Wall 
Street  to  sell.  He  don't  want  to  see  it  no  more. 
It's  too  bad,"  she  went  on  regretfully,  "  'cause 
maybe  some  of  'em  '11  enjoy  the  air  better  'n 
they  will  the  house  " —  by  which  Mrs.  S.  did  not 
by  any  means  intend  to  convey  the  idea  that  her 
house  was  without  air. 

So  very  likely  reasoning  that  nicely  gotten 
up  refreshments,  though  of  necessity  limited  in 
variety,  might  make  up  for  any  deficiency  either 


"WORRY"  83 

in  quantity  or  in  elegance  of  furniture,  Mrs.  S., 
accompanied  by  her  capable  assistant,  Myra, 
betook  herself  soon  after  breakfast  to  the 
kitchen  in  which  they  began,  and  in  due  course 
of  time  brought  to  delectable  culmination,  divers 
siftings,  mixings,  beatings,  stirrings. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  Decoration  Day  came  on 
Friday,  for  that  gave  us  a  whole  day  extra," 
said  Myra  thankfully. 

"  You  could  ha'  staid  at  home  for  once. 
You'd  ha'  had  to ;  there  wouldn't  ha'  been  any 
other  side  to  it,"  answered  Mrs.  S.  with  a  duty- 
first  expression. 

Just  then  Emma  burst  enthusiastically  into 
the  kitchen  where  her  mother  and  sister  were 
working. 

"I've  got  it!  Oh,  I've  got  it!"  she  ex- 
claimed ecstatically,  dancing  around  half  like 
a  lunatic. 

Mrs.  S.  looked  at  Myra  under  standingly. 

"  She's  got  it,"  she  passed  on  the  remark 
mockingly  and  chant-like,  for  Emma  since 
breakfast  had  sat  wrapped  in  thought  without 
offering  to  turn  her  hand  over  to  do  a  thing. 
"  And  what  have  you  got,  my  pretty  lady  ?  " 
she  enquired  ironically;  then  as  though  fully 
half  convinced,  ua  hook-worm?" 

"  O  Mother !  Just  the  loveliest  idea,"  cor- 
rected Emma,  not  in  the  least  perturbed. 

"  About  what,  may  I  ask?  " 


8*  "WORRY" 

"  About  our  decorations  for  the  rooms  and 
the  tables  and  the  little  stands.  I've  got  a 
color  scheme  all  worked  out.  We'll  have  it  pure 
yellow,"  she  announced  triumphantly.  "  I'm 
going  to  trim  with  dandelions.  There  aren't 
so  many  here;  but  there  are  thousands  out 
through  the  meadows  where  Joe  and  I  were 
walking  yesterday.  Such  a  —  an  inspira- 
tion! " 

"  I  guess  you're  all  right,  Em."  Mrs.  Sim- 
kins  restored  her  elder  daughter  to  immediate 
favor,  changed  all  at  once  by  the  brightness  of 
the  scene  in  her  mind's  eye.  "  They  will  be 
dandy,  for  a  fact.     Dandy  Lions! 

"  '  Pretty  little  yellow  heads, 
Blooming  in  great  golden  beds. 
Pluck  will  I  just  one  round  sun, 
Pluck  a  thousand  ere  I'm  done ! ' 

"  You  don't  ever  want  to  forget,  girls,  that 
your  ma  was  educated  'afore  she  married  your 
pa,  and  can  quote  poetry  and  such  with  the  best 
of  'em.  Only  I've  been  hampered  all  my  life," 
she  went  on  sadly,  reminiscently.  "  It  takes  a 
party  like  we're  goin'  to  have  to  give  me  back 
my  merry  days  and  make  me  like  I  was  when  I 
was  a  chick  of  a  woman  like  you  two,"  and 
Mrs.  Simkins  began  to  hum  softly  to  herself. 

"  Some  woman,  that ! "  commented  Myra, 
mischievously. 


"  WORRY  "  85 

"  Now,  My,  quit  that  laughing.  'Tain't 
every  day  in  the  year  that  your  ma's  light- 
spirited.  I  can  finish  now  by  myself.  You 
and  Emma  get  your  half-bushel  baskets  and 
fill  'em  full  of  those  jolly,  little,  sunny  flowers." 
And  Mrs.  Simkins  went  busily  on,  humming 
contentedly  to  herself. 

When  the  girls  returned  they  had  quantities 
of  dandelions  plucked  with  as  long  stems  as 
they  could  possibly  manage  by  forcing  their 
fingers  deep  down  into  the  leaves. 

"  We'll  have  to  get  some  old  tin  cans  and  fill 
them  with  water  for  vases.  There's  only  one 
vase  in  the  house,  and  we  can't  use  cups  and 
glasses  because  we'll  need  them  all  for  the 
lemonade,"  Emma  decided  as  her  mother  came 
to  the  door  to  look  at  their  burden  of  bloom. 

"  Cans'll  do  just  as  well.  You  can  sort  'a 
droop  some  of  them  long-stemmed  ones  down 
over  the  sides,  and  that'll  kind  'a  hide  the  tin," 
agreed  Mrs.  S.  optimistically. 

It  was  far  past  the  dinner  hour,  though  the 
girls  had  been  so  busy  they  had  not  thought  of 
eating,  before  the  working  out  of  what  they 
rather  largely  styled  their  "  color  scheme  "  was 
completed.  The  effect  as  a  whole  would  have 
appealed  to  any  flower  lover  and  to  any  ad- 
mirer of  industry,  for  a  vast  amount  of  work 
was  represented. 

Great  masses   of  dandelions  were   arranged 


86  "  WORRY  " 

here  and  there  throughout  the  neat  little  cot- 
tage, several  cans  filled  to  overflowing  with  the 
flowers  being  placed  closely  together  to  give  the 
effect  of  good  sized  bowls.  They  were  massed 
in  the  center  of  the  dining-room  table;  they 
were  banked  beneath  the  windows  in  the  other 
rooms ;  they  were  placed  on  the  porch  in  pretty 
groups;  they  even  bordered  the  walk  in  golden 
yellow  part  way  down  the  path  to  the  fence. 
The  girls  had  not  gathered  nearly  enough,  and 
found  they  had  to  return  for  more  before  the 
results  met  with  their  approval  and  that  of  their 
just  as  enthusiastic  mother. 

When  all  was  done  the  girls  ate,  and  their 
mother's  work  being  over  until  time  for  the 
guests  to  arrive,  they  all  seated  themselves  in 
the  sitting-room  to  rest  and  to  admire  the  strik- 
ing success  of  their  "  color  scheme." 

"Ain't  it  just  lovely!  I  feel  as  if  I  was 
enterin'  the  golden  gate  into  heaven  just  to  see 
them  beautiful  dandelions.  Was  it  Ten'son, 
My,  who  wrote : 

'  Little  gold  drops,  how  I  love  you ! 
How  I  want  to  hug  and  kiss  you! 
Cook  you,  eat  you,  like  a  Sulu ! 
Make  my  stomach  learn  jiu-jitsu! '  " 

"  No,  Ma,  I  don't  just  think  it  was,"  pa- 
tiently disagreed  Myra,  her  mother's  kaleido- 


"  WORRY  "  8ff 

scopic  change  of  disposition  was  beginning  to 
weigh  upon  her. 

"  Oh,  never  mind !  Maybe  I  read  it  in  that 
Sunday  paper  your  pa  brought  home  last  week. 
I  hain't  seen  much  poetry  since  I  was  a  young 
lady.  It's  this  party  excitement  takes  my  mind 
back  so.     I  hain't  been  so  frisky  in  moons." 

"  And  your  geography,  Ma,  is  off,"  persisted 
Myra  unwilling  to  allow  her  mother  to  slip  out 
of  her  errors  on  the  easy  plea  of  unwonted 
gayety  of  mood.  "  Your  Golden  Gate  is  in 
California.  It's  the  pearly  gates  that's  in 
heaven." 

"  I  see  my  golden  gate  lookin'  out  at  them 
cans  of  dandelions  by  the  path,"  insisted  Mrs. 
S.  "  'Tain't  polite  anyway  to  tell  your  ma  she 
don't  know  nothin',"  she  admonished,  still 
smiling. 

And  so  wore  on  the  afternoon.  Mrs.  Brown 
came  over  early,  and  shortly  afterwards  the 
Jacobs  arrived  and  a  few  others.  Myra  and 
her  mother  had  changed  their  clothes  rather 
early ;  but  Emma,  not  wishing  to  muss  her  new 
gown  by  attiring  herself  too  soon,  found  she 
had  to  ask  to  be  excused  after  these  first  few 
had  reached  the  house  in  order  to  dress.  By 
six  o'clock  almost  all  the  guests  had  assembled ; 
half  an  hour  later  they  were  all  there,  busily 
talking  and  laughing,  save  perhaps  one  who  sat 


88  "  WORRY  " 

sedately,  almost  stiffly,  a  little  back  from  the 
center  of  the  merry  crowd. 

Already  had  the  lemonade  been  passed  once 
as  a  sort  of  welcoming  cup  of  cheer  on  the  hot 
June  night;  already  had  Mrs.  Brown,  among 
all  within  the  reach  of  her  full-toned  voice,  cir- 
culated her  deeply  ingrained  opinion  concerning 
the  relative  merits  of  plain  lawn  and  dotted  mull 
as  a  material  for  a  "  graduatin'  "  dress,  lean- 
ing most  positively  and  unequivocally  toward 
the  latter;  already  had  Mrs.  Simkins  searched 
for  and  found  Mrs.  Jones  of  the  dry-goods  store 
down  in  the  city  to  tell  her  in  detail  all  about 
the  new  dress  and  its  making. 

Just  then  Emma,  who  had  had  at  last  to  have 
Myra  called  to  assist  her  in  getting  into  her 
frock  and  to  arrange  her  hair,  appeared  at  the 
stair  door,  and  passing  into  the  room,  made  her 
way  from  group  to  group,  shaking  hands  with 
her  guests  and  making  them  welcome  all  over 
again. 

Mrs.  Jones  was  admiring  the  dress  as  she 
passed  around  the  room,  looking  at  it  intently, 
mentally  making  comparison  between  it  and 
that  of  her  daughter,  off  the  same  piece. 

Emma  finally  came  over  her  way  and  Mrs.  S. 
proudly  presented  her  to  Mrs.  Jones  whom,  of 
course,  she  had  never  before  seen.  Before 
leaving  them  Emma  managed  to  whisper  to  her 
mother : 


"  WORRY  "  89 

"  Goodness  me !  Look  at  our  beautiful 
1  color  scheme  ' !  " 

And  Mrs.  S.,  turning,  was  horrified,  then 
well-nigh  stupefied,  to  see  before  her  blank  rows 
and  groups  of  tin  cans  —  some  rusty,  some 
bright,  all  jagged  around  the  tops,  even  through 
the  door  into  the  dining-room  glimmering  at 
her  from  all  sides. 

"  Land  sakes !  What  has  happened !  "  she 
exclaimed  hysterically ;  and  Mrs.  Jones,  fearing 
she  was  about  to  faint,  supported  her  drooping 
form. 

"  They're  all  closed  up,  Ma !  Every  last 
dandelion's  gone  to  sleep !  Oh !  why  didn't  yov> 
think  ?  You  might  have  known !  "  Emma  was 
almost  weeping,  and  rightly  thought  that  age 
should  have  known  better  than  to  get  youth  into 
such  straits.  "Where's  Joe?"  she  asked,  as 
though  Joe  might  instantaneously  alleviate  her 
embarrassment. 

But  Joe  was  out  on  the  lawn  with  Pa  Simkins, 
and  Jacobs  and  some  others;  he  was  not  to  be 
easily  and  quietly  called. 

"  We've  just  got  to  let  on  we  wanted  it  that 
way.  Lots  of  people  have  to  let  on  about  a 
good  many  things,"  sagely  decided  Mrs.  S.,  re- 
covering herself.  "  You  just  go  quietly  and 
call  My,  and  have  her  take  those  awful  lookin' 
cans  off  the  dinin'  table.  The  rest  of  'em  we'll 
just  let  go.     We're  not  goin'  to  spoil  the  party 


90  "  WORRY  " 

because  your  *  color  scheme,'  as  you  call 
it,  hain't  worked  out."  And  Mrs.  Simkins 
straightened  with  the  manner  of  one  who  had 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  through  sheer  force 
of  will,  added  yet  another  vertebra  to  her 
"  backbone."  She  needed  all  the  extra  backing 
she  could  command,  for  the  house  which  early 
in  the  evening  had  been  really  beautiful  with  its 
gilding  of  simple,  dainty,  yellow  flowers,  now 
looked  bare  and  much  like  a  caricature  with  its 
rows  and  groups  of  tin  cans  on  tables,  under 
window  sills,  even  looking  out  the  open  door 
down  each  side  of  the  path  to  the  porch. 

Myra  was  startled,  and  for  a  good  moment 
could  not  grasp  the  situation,  nor  understand 
the  meaning  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  complete 
and  lightning-like  transformation.  When  she 
did  take  it  all  in,  realizing  fully  what  had  oc- 
curred, attracting  as  little  attention  as  possi- 
ble, without  a  word  —  for  three-fourths  of  the 
guests  in  all  likelihood  had  never  noticed  there 
had  been  any  "  color  scheme " ;  many  would 
not  have  known  a  flower  from  a  brickbat  —  she 
slipped  the  cans  off  the  dining  table  and  from 
other  conspicuous  places. 

Emma  wanted  to  assist,  but  felt  that  after 
having  been  so  late  in  dressing,  it  would  hardly 
do  for  her  to  absent  herself  even  for  a  short 
time.  Anyway,  the  shock  of  the  discovery  of 
the  flowers'  unfaithfulness  over,  thoughts  of  the 


"  WORRY  "  91 

later  hours  of  the  evening  and  what  they  were 
to  bring  filled  her  mind.  She  very  wisely 
looked  only  to  the  future;  the  future  to  which 
she  looked  did  not  lie,  as  with  some,  decades  and 
decades  away.  Chancing  to  glance  across  the 
room  she  caught  sight  of  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Seton  who  sat  apart  from  the  others,  somewhat 
retired.  To  him  she  felt  in  a  manner  drawn, 
not  so  much  for  sympathy  —  for  that  she  would 
not  ask  —  as  in  sympathy. 

There  was  to  be  no  elaborate  party  supper: 
only  a  slice  of  beef-loaf,  a  spoonful  of  creamed 
potatoes,  a  couple  of  pieces  of  cake  with  a  fork 
on  a  plate  for  each  guest.  They  were  to  eat 
just  wherever  they  happened  to  be  standing  or 
sitting,  although  there  were  several  little  tables 
convenient  for  those  who  might  wish  to  use 
them. 

On  each  plate,  neatly  folded  under  the  fork 
—  presumably  placed  there  by  a  trusted  friend, 
for  though  Mrs.  S.  saw  to  filling  the  plates,  she 
knew  nothing  of  it  all  —  was  a  slip  of  paper. 
Some  curiously  inclined  opened  immediately 
these  little  missives;  others  more  edacious 
dropped  them  aimlessly,  unnoticing.  Those 
who  read,  and  directly  afterwards  those  who 
hadn't,  in  the  excitement  and  babble  that  fol- 
lowed scarce  gave  a  thought  to  refreshment. 
Down  did  they  set  their  plates  as  loudly  they 
voiced   their   congratulations,    for    the   bit    of 


92  "  WORRY  " 

folded  paper  contained  nothing  of  less  import 
than  the  announcement  of  the  engagement  of 
Emma  Simkins  to  Joe  Kuntz. 

When,  some  time  after,  refreshments  having 
been  eaten  and  plates  removed,  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Seton,  asking  for  a  moment's  silence,  an- 
nounced that  the  marriage  of  the  couple  whose 
engagement  had  just  been  made  known  would 
take  place  immediately,  the  license  having  long 
since  been  procured,  excitement  almost  equaled 
in  heat  the  June  night  itself. 

Mrs.  Simkins  had  a  second  attack  of  uncer- 
tainness  which  Mrs.  Jones,  still  by  her  side, 
abated  successfully  as  before  by  supporting  her 
for  a  moment;  Mr.  Simkins  from  his  seat  out- 
side, streaked  through  the  house  up  to  his  elder 
daughter,  demanding  with  ludicrous  dignity  the 
meaning  of  it  all ;  Myra,  in  the  secret  since  that 
early  morning  trolley  ride,  sat  quite  serene, 
looking  innocent  seventeen. 

Joe,  meanwhile,  had  made  his  way  to  Emma's 
side;  and  while  Pa  Simkins  held  firmly  to 
Emma's  hand  and  Ma  Simkins  hysterically 
gripped  Joe's  as  in  a  vise,  the  minister  ap- 
proached and  performed  the  short  though  im- 
pressive ceremony  of  his  church.  When  Joe 
slipped  the  gold  band  on  Emma's  finger  Mrs. 
Simkins  burst  out  crying. 

"  You're  not  going  to  take  her  away,  Joe," 
she  pleaded. 


"  WORRY  "  93 


a 


No.  Not  for  a  while,  I  guess.  We  thought 
maybe  you'd  like  to  have  another  man  around 
to  worry  you,"  Joe  explained. 

"  And  I  would !  I  would !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
S.  through  her  tears.  "  I  always  did  like  you, 
Joe,"  she  added. 

Then  all  the  guests  at  this  surprise  wedding 
came  up  in  turn  to  shake  hands  with  the  bride 
and  groom  and  to  wish  them  the  trite  things 
customary  with  the  stereotyped  on  such  occa- 
sions. 

"  How  about  commencement?  "  inquired  Mrs. 
Jones,  as  she  squeezed  Emma's  hand  painfully 
in  her  excitement.  "  Ain't  you  going  to  gradu- 
ate with  Carrie?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  Joe  would  not  be  able  to  spare 
me  long  enough ; "  then  she  leaned  over  and  let 
out  as  some  do  when  over  happy.  "  There  was 
something  off  anyway  with  my  grades,"  she 
confided.     "  Ask  Carrie  when  you  see  her." 

"  And  to  think  I  was  a-bleachin'  a  weddin' 
dress,"  stammered  Mrs.  Brown,  close  by  the 
bride  of  the  evening. 

"  That  you  were  a-what?  "  questioned  Emma 
incisively,  only  half  catching  the  remark. 

"  Never  you  mind,  dearie,  I  was  just  a- 
dreamin'.  Here's  your  ma  again,"  as  Mrs. 
Simkins  came  up. 

"What's  this,  Em,  'bout  your  graduatin'? 
Ain't  you  goin'  to  graduate?  " 


94  "  WORRY  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  Mother.  You  see  it  was 
Emma  Simkins  that  did  the  studying,  now 
Emma  Kuntz  can't  take  all  the  credit,"  she 
dissimulated  just  a  shade. 

"  And  your  essay,"  anxiously  went  on  Mrs. 
Simkins ;  "  ain't  you  goin'  to  read  it?  " 

"  No,  Mother.  But  don't  worry ;  the  essay 
has  never  been  written.  I  planned  this  little 
surprise  party  way  back  in  May.  So  after  it 
was  all  arranged  I  stopped  bothering  my  head 
about  the  essay.  Why,  you  dear  goose,"  she 
said,  taking  her  mother's  face  between  her 
hands,  "  don't  you  know  that's  why  I  changed 
the  date  of  the  party?  I  wanted,  oh,  I  wanted 
so  bad  to  be  a  June  day  bride." 

Emma  and  Joe  began  housekeeping  at 
"  Mar's "  after  all.  Mrs.  Simkins  with  two 
men  folks  in  the  house  doubtless  was  at  times  a 
victim  of  nerves ;  but  she  never  again  admitted 
even  to  herself  that  she  was  worried.  Joe 
proved  to  be  so  valuable  a  member  of  the  house- 
hold and  offered  so  freely  of  his  earnings  that 
many  of  Mrs.  Simkins'  anxieties  were  entirely 
dissipated. 

As  Mrs.  Brown  took  leave  of  Mrs.  Simkins 
that  night  at  the  door  after  all  the  other  guests 
had  departed,  she  whispered  regretfully: 

"  If  I'd  just  have  known  that  was  a-goin'  to 
be  a  weddin'  dress  you  was  a-goin'  to  buy,  I'd 


"  WORRY  "  95 

have  insisted  on  dotted  mull.  It's  so  hand- 
some." 

"  But  not  a  soul  of  us  knew,"  answered  Mrs. 
Simkins,  disappointment  in  not  having  been 
consulted  forcing  itself  through  the  joy  of  the 
outcome  of  it  all.  "  Not  a  soul  of  us  knew 
'ceptin'  those  three  early  mornin'  street-car 
plotters." 

That  night,  or  rather  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, for  it  was  late  before  they  retired,  Mrs. 
Simkins  informed  her  attentive  better-half  that 
the  evening  had  saved  him  exactly  two  dollars 
and  a  half. 

"  How's  that?  "  inquired  he. 

"  No  graduating  no  ribbon  sash,"  laconically 
explained  she. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED   FOR   FAILURE  TO    RETURN 
THIS    BOOK   ON   THE   DATE   DUE.    THE   PENALTY- 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY    AND    TO    $1.00    ON    THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

....       _ 

[     DEC   18  1933 

i-EB  19  1937 

' 

j 

NOV  19  1937 

OCT  2  HW 

I         " 

■  cftftft 

\ 

^lorfS*8" 

LD  21-100m-7,'33 

,YB  47312 


*r- 


